IP 


VICTORY 


RUTLEDGE 


ALEXANDER.  CORKEY 


ALLAN    LIFTED    THE    CHILD    IN    HIS    ARMS 


Frontispiece. 


THE  VICTORY  OF 
ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 

A  TALE  OF  THE  MIDDLE  WEST 
BY 

ALEXANDER  GORKEY 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

FLORENCE  RUTLEDGE  WILDE 


NEW     YORK 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
THE  H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY. 


DEDICATED    TO 

JOSEPH    NEWTON    HALLOCK,    D.D., 

EDITOR    OF 

THE  CHRISTIAN  WORK  AND  EVANGELIST, 

WHOSE    ENCOURAGEMENT    AND    ASSISTANCE 

MADE    THIS    BOOK    POSSIBLE 


PREFACE 

IN  our  American  literature  the  wonderful  Middle 
West  has  been  strangely  neglected.  Few  books  por- 
tray the  intensely  interesting  drama  of  life  that  is 
being  enacted  on  the  fertile  plains  of  the  Mississippi 
and  Missouri  Valleys. 

My  book  is  an  humble  contribution  to  the  long  and 
noble  list  of  American  fiction  which  describes  our 
modern  American  life.  My  only  claim  to  notice  is 
that  I  have  endeavored  to  picture  the  throbbing  life 
of  this  world  in  the  Middle  West,  where  the  nations 
of  Europe  are  mingling  to  form  one  of  the  grandest 
types  of  humanity  ever  seen  on  the  face  of  our  globe. 

This  tale  of  the  Middle  West  is  the  result  of  many 
years  of  observation  and  grows  out  of  vital  personal 
experiences  as  my  own  life  is  being  lived  in  this  fa- 
vored part  of  the  United  States. 

As  a  student,  a  business  man,  a  minister,  a  pro- 
fessor, and  a  lecturer,  I  have  had  wide  opportunities 
of  knowing  the  varied  experiences  which  go  to  make 
up  the  common  life  of  the  corn-belt. 


PREFACE 

If  my  story  shall  be  able  to  show,  in  part,  at  least, 
the  magnificent  progress  and  the  splendid  possibilities 
of  the  great  Mississippi  valley,  I  shall  feel  repaid  for 
all  my  labor  in  gathering  the  material  and  in  writing 
my  "Tale  of  the  Middle  West." 

ALEXANDER  CORKEY. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     WELLINGTON'S  TRAGEDY 11 

II.     THE  NEW  MINISTER  ARRIVES 21 

III.  IN  MARKLEY'S  FACTORY 31 

IV.  A  PUBLIC  SALE  ON  AN  IOWA  FARM 45 

V.     GRACE  MARKLEY   55 

VI.     THE  BEGINNINGS   OF  OPPOSITION 68 

VII.     THE  REVIVAL   77 

VIII.     FREDERICK    MARKLEY    CALLS    ON    MA- 
BEL GRAYSON  86 

IX.     AFTER  THE  BATTLE  96 

X.     THE     GAMBLING     CLASS     IN    WELLING- 
TON COLLEGE   105 

XI.     ALLAN  STIRS  UP  A  TEMPEST 116 

XII.  A  LETTER  FROM  WELLINGTON 125 

XIII.  ON  THE  DES   MOINES  RIVER 134 

XIV.  THE     STORY     OF     ABRAHAM     LINCOLN 

AND  ANN  RUTLEDGE 143 

XV.     THE  WELLINGTON  GHAUT AU QUA 153 

XVI.     A  MIDNIGHT  ALARM 163 

XVII.  FREDERICK       MARKLEY       BEGINS       TO 

REAP    174 

XVIII.  ELDER   MARKLEY   AND   HIS    SON   HAVE 

AN  INTERVIEW  185 

XIX.     PLOTTING  A  MINISTER'S  DOWNFALL....  194 
XX.    EVERY  MAN'S  SOUL  A  KINGDOM..  .  204 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.     A  FISHING  TRIP 216 

XXII.     MISUNDERSTANDINGS    226 

XXIII.  THE      CHURCH      CONVENTION      HEARS 

REV.  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 236 

XXIV.  THE   TRUSTEES   OF   WELLINGTON   COL- 

LEGE HAVE  A  HOUSE  CLEANING 248 

XXV.  THE  HUSKING  CONTEST 257 

XXVI.  FRANK  ANTOL'S   FATEFUL  DISCOVERY  271 
XXVII.     THE  WAGES  OF  SIN 282 

XXVIII.     BROKEN-HEARTED  AND  PENITENT 291 

XXIX.     AT  THE  LAKES  OF  KILLARNEY 303 

XXX.     THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE...  314 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 
"ALLAN  LIFTED  THE   CHILD  IN  HIS  ARMS" 

Frontispiece 

"HOW  CAN  YE  CHANT,  YE  LITTLE  BIRDS,  AND  I 
SAE  WEARY,  FU'  O'  CARE" 152 

"GIVE    ME    A    THOUSAND    DOLLARS— OR    I    WILL 
MAKE  RUTLEDGE  A  HERO!" 192 

"CAN    I    EVER    HOPE   THAT  YOU   WILL  BELONG 
TO   ME?"    ..307 


CHAPTER  I. 
WELLINGTON'S  TRAGEDY. 

"For    God's    sake,   come    quick,    doctor!" 

A  boy  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age  was 
standing,  bare-headed  and  breathless,  one  warm 
July  day,  at  the  door  of  the  parsonage  in  Welling- 
ton, as  he  gasped  out  these  words  to  Rev.  Dr. 
Anning.  The  white-haired  pastor  was  at  the  door, 
'having  hurried  from  his  study  to  answer  the  loud 
rapping  of  the  excited  youth. 

"•What's  the  matter,  Frank,  what's  the  matter?" 
hastily  inquired  the  minister. 

"Viola's  dead.  She's  been  killed,"  said  the  boy, 
and,  bursting  into  tears,  he  ran  down  the  street 
in  the  direction  of  his  home  near  the  railroad 
tracks. 

"Dead !"  echoed  the  minster,  gazing  in  astonish- 
ment after  the  fleeing  form  of  the  boy.  "Dead!" 
he  repeated,  and  then  he  went  on  speaking  to 
himself:  "Poor  girl,  I  must  hurry  down  to  the 
home.  Alas!  I  fear  the  worst." 

He  seized  his  hat  and  walked  rapidly  toward 
the  little  Bohemian  settlement  on  the  edge  of 
Wellington.  Wellington  was  a  typical  city  of  the 
Middle  West,  a  county  seat,  with  a  mixed  popu- 
lation, including  Americans  from  the  Eastern 


12  THE   VICTORY   OR 

States  and  foreigners  from  Sweden,  Germany, 
France  and  Bohemia. 

Most  of  the  Bohemians  were  utterly  godless, 
but  one  family,  the  Antols,  had  been  reached  by 
the  church  of  which  Dr.  Anning  was  pastor.  The 
two  children,  Viola  and  Frank,  had  been  mem- 
bers of  the  Sunday  school  for  some  years,  and 
Dr.  Anning  had  often  reflected  that  a  start  had 
been  made  through  this  family  in  the  Christian- 
izing and  Americanizing  of  these  Bohemian  immi- 
grants. Viola  was  just  past  eighteen,  a  lovely  girl 
of  much  promise.  She  was  now  a  member  of  the 
church  choir  as  well  as  the  Sunday  school. 

The  word  her  brother  had  brought  him  of 
Viola's  violent  death  stunned  the  minister  like  a 
blow.  He  had  seen  her  pass  that  very  morning 
in  the  bloom  of  health.  As  he  neared  the  Antol 
cottage,  it  was  evident  something  tragic  had  hap- 
pened. A  crowd  was  standing  around,  awe-struck 
and  silent.  Cries  of  grief  came  from  within  the 
'house. 

The  crowd,  mostly  Bohemians,  silently  made 
way  for  the  aged  minister,  whom  all  recognized. 
Many  of  them  had  only  curses  for  the  church  of 
which  Dr.  Anning  was  pastor,  and  for  the  religion 
which  he  professed,  but  all  had  a  respect  for  this 
good,  white-haired  man,  who  had  shown  himself  a 
friend  to  all  in  trouble  for  many  years. 

Dr.  Anning  knocked  gently,  and  then  opened  the 
door  himself  and  entered. 

The  room  was  half  full  of  weeping  women,  who 
motioned  him  to  the  door  of  the  bedroom. 

Just  as  he  reached  the   door,   the   doctor  came 


"ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  13 

out.  "She's  dead,"  said  the  physician  to  the  min- 
ister. "She  has  been  dead  over  an  hour.  They 
found  her  alongside  the  railroad  track  at  the 
bend  in  the  woods,  with  a  revolver  at  her  side  and 
a  bullet  in  her  brain." 

"Saviour,  help  me!"  groaned  the  good  man  in 
his  heart,  as  he  came  in,  and  sat  down  quietly  in  a 
vacant  chair  beside  the  bed. 

The  father,  with  bowed  head,  was  moaning  in 
helpless  agony.  The  mother  sat  gazing  in  stony 
grief  at  the  silent  form  that  lay  on  the  bed.  The 
doctor  had  just  covered  it  with  a  sheet.  Already 
a  crimson  stain  over  the  face  showed  the  dreadful 
cause  of  all  the  grief  and  agony.  On  the  floor  lay 
Frank,  Viola's  brother,  his  strong,  young  form 
convulsed  with  sobs.  Dr.  Anning  sat  in  silence 
for  a  few  moments,  not  knowing  what  it  was  best 
for  him  to  do. 

Suddenly  the  mother  gave  a  shriek  and  threw 
herself  on  the  bed,  crying  in  the  Bohemian  tongue : 
Viola,  Viola,  my  child,  Viola;  come  back,  come 
back!" 

In  the  paroxysm  of  her  grief  she  pulled  the 
sheet  from  her  daughter's  blood-stained  face. 
Tears  flowed  down  Dr.  Anning's  cheeks,  as  he 
gently  raised  the  hapless  mother  from  the  bed  and 
led  her  to  another  room. 

"Mr.  Antol,"  he  said  to  the  stricken  father,  "go 
and  comfort  your  wife.  Let  us  care  for  Viola." 

The  man  rose  as  in  a  dream,  and  Dr.  Anning 
led  him  out  also.  A  woman  came  in  and  took  out 
the  sobbing  boy. 

Dr.  Anning  returned  to  the  bedroom,  he 


14  THE    VICTORY   OF 

stood  for  a  moment  gazing  down  at  the  beautiltul 
face  of  Viola,  stained  with  her  life-blood.  He 
drew  up  the  sheet  again,  and  murmured  to  him- 
self: "My  God  is  this  all  the  church  has  done  lor 
Viola?"  What  he  meant  only  he  himself  under- 
stood. The  unutterable  pain  in  his  heart  was  not 
simply  because  a  young  life  had  been  taken  out  of 
the  world.  A  horrible  feeling  that  it  was  associa- 
tion with  his  church  that  was  accountable  for  this 
awful  crime  made  him  sick  at  heart. 

The  coroner  soon  arrived  and  made  a  hasty  ex- 
amination. 

"We  will  hold  an  inquest  this  evening,"  he  said 
to  the  minister,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone.  "I  shall 
have  the  city  physician,  Dr.  Lucas,  make  a  com- 
plete examination  at  once." 

Dr.  Lucas  came,  and  after  a  half  hour's  exami- 
nation of  poor  Viola's  body  he  came  out  of  the 
room,  looking  very  serious. 

Dr.  Anning,  who  had  remained  until  now  at  the 
home,  put  on  his  hat,  and  accompanied  the  physi- 
cian down  the  street. 

"Dr.  Lucas,"  said  the  minister,  "were  there  any 
other  wounds  or  bruises  on  the  body?" 

"No,  Dr.  Anning,"  said  the  doctor,  who  was  a 
close  friend  of  the  minister's  and  an  officer  of  his 
church.  "No  but  something  was  wrong.  I  am 
shocked  beyond  expression.  I  always  thought 
Viola  was  a  good,  pure  girl,  but  evidently  she  went 
astray." 

Dr.  Anning  staggered  and  would  have  fallen, 
had  not  his  companion  grasped  his  arm. 

"I  am  afraid  it  was  suicide,"  continued  Dr.  Lti- 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  15 

cas,  thinking  the  minister  had  merely  stumbled, 
and  not  noticing  the  pallor  of  his  face.  "She  could 
not  have  hidden  her  shame  much  longer." 

"It  was  not  suicide!"  exclaimed  the  aged  minis- 
ter, so  fiercely  that  the  doctor  started.  "It  was  not 
suicide.  That  pure,  innocent  child  has  been  be- 
trayed and  murdered." 

"I  am  grieved  and  shocked  beyond  measure," 
replied  the  physician,  thinking  the  awful  tragedy 
had  unnerved  his  pastor.  Dr.  Lucas  was  a  faith- 
ful member  of  the  church  and  a  devout  Christian. 
"Of  course,"  'he  went  on,  "I  know  that,  under  the 
surface  of  our  quiet  society  in  Wellington,  much 
evil  exists,  undreamt  of  by  the  world.  My  pro- 
fession enables  me  to  see  constantly  the  downfall 
of  our  young  people  through  ignorance  and  un- 
restrained passion,  but  Viola — I  never  could  have 
suspected  Viola — she  was  so  sincere,  so  gentle,  so 
innocent" 

The  minister  said  no  more.  He  could  not  trust 
himself  to  speak.  He  was  afraid  he  had  said  too 
much  already. 

A  little  farther  on  they  separated  and  Dr. 
Anning  walked  slowly  back  to  his  parsonage.  "I 
knew  it,  I  knew  it,"  he  said  to  himself.  "That 
cursed  hypocrite  is  at  the  bottom  of  it  all.  But 
I  am  helpless.  I  have  no  absolute  proof.  Even 
if  I  had,  it  would  wreck  our  church  if  I  exposed 
him.  I  must  preserve  the  peace  and  harmony  of 
Christ's  church.  God  forgive  me !"  he  cried  in  his 
agony,  "is  it  Christ's  church?  But  for  our  church 
that  girl  would  be  alive  and  happy  to-day." 

Dr.  Anning  was  not  the  only  one  who  had  sus- 


16  THE    VICTORY   OF 

picions  in  regard  to  Viola's  fate.  A  young  man 
had  been  paying  some  attention  to  her  who  was 
believed  by  some  to  know  something  about  the 
tragedy.  This  young  man  was  Frederick  Mark- 
ley,  the  leader  of  the  church  choir,  and  the  son 
of  the  leading  officer  in  the  Wellington  church. 
Young  Markley's  father,  William  Markley,  had 
been  an  officer  in  the  church  for  over  thirty  years. 
He  was  a  hard,  grasping,  covetous  man,  and  had 
few  friends,  but  he  was  a  power  in  the  Wellington 
church.  He  was  a  pioneer  in  that  part  of  Iowa, 
and  had  used  all  his  superior  knowledge  and  educa- 
tion to  grind  as  much  money  as  he  could  out  of  the 
foreigners  who  had  settled  around  Wellington. 
These  foreigners  came  from  Germany,  France, 
Sweden,  Bohemia,  and  other  European  countries. 
They  came  in  large  numbers  to  find  a  new  home 
in  the  great  Western  land. 

Markley  looked  on  these  immigrants,  ignorant 
of  American  customs,  as  his  lawful  prey,  and  he 
had  amassed  a  fortune  through  his  dealings  with 
them.  He  used  all  kinds  of  methods.  He  was  in 
the  land  business;  he  loaned  money;  he  had  a 
store.  Lately,  he  had  become  a  manufacturer  and 
employed  many  hands,  nearly  all  foreigners. 

His  Christianity  was  shown  in  his  attendance 
at  the  morning  service  in  the  Wellington  church 
every  Sunday,  and  in  his  contribution  to  the  min- 
ister's salary.  Apart  from  these  two  things,  he 
might  as  soon  have  been  judged  a  Mohammedan, 
or  Jew,  or  even  an  Atheist,  as  a  Christian. 

He  was  an  officer  in  the  church,  but  he  ignored 
the  duties  of  this  office  until  some  attempt  was 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  17 

made  to  depart  from  the  old  formal,  antiquated 
methods  of  church  work.  Then  he  became  active 
long  enough  to  effectually  stop  any  such  enter- 
prise. 

Dr.  Anning  had  meekly  submitted  to  Markley's 
control,  and  so  he  had  remained  pastor  of  the 
Wellington  church  for  many  years;  but  as  a  fac- 
tor in  promoting  true  Christianity  no  one  knew 
better  than  Dr.  Anning  that  his  church  was  a 
failure. 

That  fatal  afternoon  he  saw  his  church  was 
more  than  a  failure.  It  was  a  moral  cancer  in  the 
community.  Through  association  writh  his  church 
a  pure,  innocent,  foreign  girl  had  been  betrayed 
and  murdered.  Others  might  be  suspicious,  but 
he  knew  the  damning  secret. 

Although  the  community  regarded  Frederick 
Markley  as  a  fast  young  man,  of  loose  morals,  the 
church  accepted  him  as  one  of  its  youthful  leaders. 
He  had  charge  of  the  choir.  His  influence  over 
the  young  people  of  the  church  was  paramount. 
Among  the  students  of  Wellington  College  he  was 
regarded  as  a  hero. 

Poor  Dr.  Anning  knew  that  this  influence  of  his 
in  the  church  and  college  was  largely  used  to  lead 
the  young  people  into  doubtful  habits.  Markley 
was  an  inveterate  card  player,  and  it  was  rumored 
he  gambled  heavily.  He  arranged  a  dance  at  the 
college  every  month,  and  often  these  dances  were 
reported  to  be  altogether  too  free  for  a  Christian 
college.  No  one  denied  that  he  drank  freely. 

Dr.  Anning  often  thought  of  making  a  protest 
Against  this  young  man's  leadership  in  the  church, 


18 

but  he  knew  such  a  protest  would  mean  a  war 
with  the  senior  Markley,  and  so,  for  the  peace  and 
harmony  of  the  church,  he  endured  in  silence. 

Dr.  Anning  had  seen  young  Markley's  attentions 
to  the  beautiful  young  Bohemian,  and,  knowing 
Markley's  character,  he  had  trembled  for  Viola. 
Just  the  week  before,  Dr.  Anning  happened  to  be 
in  the  officers'  room  of  the  church  one  evening 
after  supper.  It  was  choir  practise  night,  but 
fully  an  hour  before  the  time  when  the  choir  as- 
sembled. The  minister  was  astonished,  therefore, 
to  hear  footsteps  and  voices  in  the  church.  He 
recognized  Viola's  voice  at  once,  with  its  slight 
Bohemian  accent. 

"Frederick,"  she  was  saying,  "I  am  beginning  to 
think  you  are  deceiving  me.  Unless  you  keep 
your  promise,  I  must,  I  will,  tell  Dr.  Anning." 

"If  you  do  I  will  kill  you,"  he  heard  Markley 
hiss. 

It  was  Dr.  Anning's  first  thought  at  the  time  to 
open  the  door  and  confront  the  young  people,  and 
how  he  wished  he  had  done  so,  as  he  thought  of 
it  all  afterward.  But  he  thought  of  the  elder 
Markley;  he  thought  of  the  peace  and  harmony  of 
the  church,  and  he  kept  still. 

The  young  people  passed  on  to  the  choir  room, 
and  Dr.  Anning  was  left  with  an  awful  secret  on 
his  soul. 

Through  a  little  hole  the  interior  of  a  vast  build- 
ing can  be  easily  seen.  By  one  small  act  a  man's 
character  can  be  disclosed.  So,  through  these  few 
sentences  Dr.  Anning  saw,  clear  as  day,  the 
tragedy  of  Viola's  life. 


RUT  LEDGE  19 

After  coming  from  the  sight  of  Viola's  mur- 
dered body  Dr.  Anning  felt  he  must  speak  out. 
What  Dr.  Lucas  told  him  about  the  unfortunate 
girl  made  him  grind  his  teeth  in  rage.  But  again 
he  thought  of  the  peace  of  the  church.  Again  he 
resolved  to  be  silent. 

At  the  inquest,  which  was  short,  few  new  facts 
were  elicited.  None  had  seen  anyone  accompany 
the  girl  down  the  track.  The  revolver  belonged 
to  Mr.  Antol,  although  he  declared  he  had  not  seen 
it  in  the  house  for  some  months.  A  verdict  of 
suicide  while  temporarily  insane  was  given,  and 
the  incident  was  closed. 

At  the  funeral  many  noticed  how  strangely  Dr. 
Anning  acted.  He  did  not  seem  himself.  At  first 
it  was  thought  that  his  grief  for  the  sad  fate  of 
one  of  his  young  church  members  had  unnerved 
him.  But,  as  the  days  and  weeks  went  by,  it  was 
apparent  to  all  that  Dr.  Anning  was  a  broken  man. 
In  his  pulpit  he  was  like  a  man  in  a  dream,  and 
sometimes  his  utterances  were  almost  unintelligi- 
ble. 

His  guilty  silence  kept  the  church  in  peace  and 
harmony,  but  it  kept  his  soul  in  awful  turmoil  day 
and  night.  Sleep  fled.  His  reason  faltered.  A 
few  weeks  after  Viola's  funeral  Dr.  Anning  tot- 
tered into  his  grave,  bearing  his  awful  secret  with 
him. 

Some  of  the  community  suspected  young  Mark- 
ley  knew  something  of  Viola's  tragic  end,  but  no 
one  had  any  proof,  and  the  talk  about  him  died 
out.  Viola  was  forgotten.  Her  wrongs  were  un- 
avenged. Frederick  Markley  became  more  dissi- 


20     THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 

pated  than   ever.     The  young  people  of  Welling- 
ton became  more  reckless. 

But  One  above  knew  well  the  secret  that  Dr. 
Anning  had  refused  to  disclose,  and  strange  things 
were  yet  to  happen  in  Wellington. 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE   NEW   MINISTER   ARRIVES. 

Three  months  after  Dr.  Anning's  death  the  fast 
train  was  rushing  along  through  Illinois  from  Chi- 
cago to  Omaha.  These  two  mighty  cities  of  the 
Middle  West  are  united  by  a  number  of  trunk  lines 
which  rush  passengers  from  one  city  to  the  other 
during  the  daylight  of  a  summer's  day.  There  is 
no  richer  country  in  the  world  than  these  fertile 
prairies  of  Illinois  and  Iowa. 

A  young  man  sat  in  the  luxurious  palace  car  of 
the  Limited  and  gazed  out  on  the  passing  scenes. 
The  fields  were  laden  with  the  golden  corn,  for 
which  the  Middle  West  is  famed.  The  modern 
farmhouses  flew  by.  The  train  roared  through  lit- 
tle villages,  without  even  hesitating.  But  the 
young  man  was  not  interested  in  the  passing  pan- 
orama. He  was  lost  in  deep  meditation.  A 
noble-looking  youth,  his  age  seemed  about  twenty- 
five,  and  with  his  coal-black  hair,  dark,  piercing 
eyes  and  ruddy  cheeks,  he  was  a  picture  of  health 
and  strength.  His  brow  was  smooth  and  high. 
His  appearance  would  have  attracted  attention  h> 
any  crowd. 

"Why,  Mr.  Rutledge,  I  thought  it  was  you.  Do 
you  remember  me?" 

21 


The  young  man  started  out  of  his  day  dream 
and  came  back  quickly  to  earth.  As  he  turned 
toward  the  aisle  of  the  car  to  see  who  owned  the 
sweet,  musical  voice  which  had  addressed  him, 
he  gazed  into  the  fair  young  face  of  a  beautiful 
girl,  with  light  flaxen  hair  and  lustrous  blue  eyes. 
She  was  dressed  in  a  brown  traveling  suit,  in  ex- 
quiste  taste,  and  she  had  the  carriage  of  a  true 
young  American  woman. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,"  responded  the 
young  man,  after  the  first  glance. 

Rising  from  his  seat,  he  shook  her  hand  warmly. 
"Sit  down,  Miss  Grayson,"  he  continued.  "Let 
me  see?  It  is  over  four  years  since  we  last  met 
in  Des  Moines.  How  did  you  remember  me?" 

"How  did  you  remember  me?"  asked  the  young 
lady,  in  return. 

"I  could  never  forget  you,"  said  Allan  Rutledge, 
for  this  was  the  young  man's  name. 

Mabel  Grayson  blushed  at  Allan's  earnest  re- 
mark, and  as  the  rosy  hue  of  her  cheeks  deepened, 
and  her  blue  eyes  sparkled,  she  made  a  lovely  pic- 
ture. 

"Where  have  you  been  all  this  time  since  your 
graduation?"  she  asked. 

j  While  these  young  people  are  renewing  their 
acquaintance  in  this  way,  let  us  go  back  in  their 
history  a  few  years. 

Four  and  a  half  years  previous  Allan  Rutledge 
had  graduated  at  Des  Moines  College.  The  lad 
was  Iowa  born  and  bred  and  he  was  proud  of  his 
native  State.  His  parents  had  been  pioneers  and 
their  home  was  on  a  larsre  farm  on  the  banks  of 


'ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  23 

the  Des  Moines  River.  Allan  had  received  all  his 
general  education  in  the  Hawkeye  State,  as  the 
natives  term  Iowa.  On  the  morning  of  his  grad- 
uation from  college  in  Des  Moines,  Iowa's  capital 
city,  an  event  occurred  that  had  an  influence  on 
Allan's  entire  career.  He  was  approaching  the 
hall  in  which  the  graduating  exercises  were  to  be 
held.  A  number  of  carriages  and  automobiles 
were  concentrating  on  this  same  hall,  bringing  the 
college  trustees  and  patrons  to  the  exercises. 

Judge  Grayson,  president  of  the  board  of  trus- 
tees of  the  college,  and  his  young  daughter,  Mabel, 
were  approaching  in  a  carriage.  The  driver  was 
new  and  awkward  and  the  horses  high-spirited 
and  excited.  An  automobile  dashed  past,  the 
chauffeur  tooting  his  horn  wildly.  The  horses  be- 
came frightened  and  began  to  back  and  rear.  The 
coachman  lost  his  self-control  and  pulled  violently 
on  the  reins,  only  increasing  the  fright  of  the  met- 
tled steeds.  An  accident  seemed  imminent. 

Like  a  flash  the  young  graduate  was  in  the  road, 
and,  leaping  up,  had  grasped  both  horses  by  the 
bridles.  It  was  a  dangerous  attempt,  but  in  a 
trice  the  youth  was  master  of  the  situation.  He 
pulled  the  frightened  animals  to  the  ground,  spoke 
gently  to  them  and,  at  his  word  and  touch,  the 
panic  left  them. 

Lifting  his  hat  to  Judge  Grayson  and  his  daugh- 
ter, he  disappeared  in  the  crowd. 

During  the  graduation  exercises  Allan  sat  on  the 
platform  with  the  rest  of  the  class.  He  caught 
the  eye  of  Miss  Grayson,  seated  beside  her  father 
the  front,  as  he  rose  to  deliver  his  oration. 


24  THE   VICTORY   OF 

His  subject  was  "Self-mastery."  He  began  with 
a  quotation  from  Tennyson:  "Self-reverence,  self- 
knowledge,  self-control,  these  three  alone,  lead  life 
to  sovereign  power."  His  oration  was  a  noble 
effort  and  held  the  vast  audience  spellbound.  He 
closed  with  a  quotation  from  Walter  Foss: 

"I  see  from  my  house  by  the  side  of  the  road, 

By  the  side  of  the  highway  of  life, 
The  men  that  press  on  with  the  ardor  of  hope 

And  the  men  that  are  faint  in  the  strife. 
And  I  turn  not  away  from  their  smiles   or  their 
tears, 

Both  parts  of  an  infinite  plan. 
Let  me  live  in  a  house  by  the  side  of  the  road, 

And  be  a  friend  to  man." 

As  he  sat  down,  a  hush  crept  over  the  audience 
for  a  brief  second.  Then  a  deafening  roar  of  ap- 
plause showed  that  Allan  was  the  hero  of  the  day. 

Mabel  Grayson  whispered  to  her  father:  "That 
is  the  young  man  who  caught  our  horses.  I  rec- 
ognized him  at  once." 

Thus  it  happened  that  at  the  close  of  the  gradua- 
tion exercises  on  that  eventful  day  Allan  almost 
lost  his  own  self-mastery  when  Mabel  Grayson 
came  forward  and  said  simply: 

"Thank  you,  very  much,  Mr.  Rutledge,  for  sav- 
ing us  from  an  accident  this  morning,  and  I  want 
to  congratulate  you  on  your  oration.  It  was 
splendid." 

Allan  blushed  and  stammered,  as  he  answered, 
"Thank  you,  Miss  Grayson.  I  did  nothing.  I  am 
glad  you  were  pleased  with  my  oration." 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  25 

• 

The  Judge  also  warmly  thanked  him  and  praised 
his  oration  as  a  masterpiece. 

Allan  Rutledge  and  Mabel  Grayson  had  not  met 
again  until  this  morning,  as  both  were  journeying 
on  the  Limited  Express  from  Chicago. 

During  these  four  years  Allan  had  been  prepar- 
ing himself  for  his  lifework  as  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel  by  a  three  years'  course  at  a  Boston  theo- 
logical institution  and  a  year's  study  in  Germany. 

He  had  just  received  a  unanimous  call  to  the 
Wellington  church  in  Iowa,  and  he  was  on  his  way 
to  Wellington  that  morning.  Naturally  he  had 
been  absorbed  in  deep  thought,  as  it  meant  the 
real  beginning  of  his  lifework. 

Mabel  Grayson  had  also  completed  her  studies, 
graduating  from  an  Eastern  college. 

As  Allan  conversed  with  the  happy,  vivacious, 
cultured  daughter  of  Judge  Grayson,  he  threw  off 
his  heavy  weight  of  care  and  his  sense  of  coming 
responsibility.  He  did  not  mention  Wellington  to 
her  at  all.  He  told  her  of  his  European  trip,  of 
the  places  of  interest  which  he  had  visited,  and  of 
the  famous  men  he  had  met.  Miss  Grayson  was 
delighted  to  hear  of  his  travels,  and  sincerely  in- 
terested in  his  studies  for  his  sacred  profession,  as 
she  was  an  earnest  Christian  girl. 

The  time  passed  rapidly.  The  great  Mississippi, 
father  of  waters,  was  crossed,  and  the  train  rolled 
into  the  grand  old  State  of  Iowa. 

"I  am  glad  to  be  back  in  Iowa,"  said  Allan,  as 
he  watched  the  cornfields  fly  past.     "I  have  seen 
no  land  like  it  in  all  Europe." 
'  "It  is   a   grand   State,"   said   Miss    Grayson.     "I 


26  THE   VICTORY  OF 

was  never  ashamed  at  Mount  Holyoke  to  tell  the 
girls  I  was  a  native  of  Iowa." 

"Yes,"  continued  Allan,  "I  am  anxious  to  make 
Iowa  my  home  the  rest  of  my  life.  My  old  home 
on  the  Des  Moines  River  surpasses  to  me  any  pal- 
ace I  ever  saw  in  the  Old  World." 

"I  am  going  to  stop  at  Wellington  to-day,"  said 
Miss  Grayson.  "I  am  to  visit  there  for  a  few 
weeks  with  the  Markleys,  who  are  distant  relatives 
of  my  father's." 

"Wellington !"  exclaimed  Allan.  "I  am  going  to 
Wellington,  too.  I  expect  to  live  there  awhile." 

"To  live  there,"  said  Mabel  Grayson,  in  aston- 
ishment. "What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  have  been  invited  to  become  pastor  of  the 
Wellington  Church  and  I  have  accepted,"  an- 
swered Allan. 

"I  congratulate  you  most  sincerely,"  said  the 
girl.  "It  is  a  splendid  church.  I  knew  Dr.  Anning 
very  well.  He  was  often  in  our  home  in  Des 
Moines.  Poor  man,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh,  "he 
broke  down  suddenly.  How  glad  papa  will  be  to 
know  you  are  his  successor.  He  has  often  spoken 
of  your  graduating  oration.  He  said  you  were  a 
born  'friend  to  man.' " 

"At  least,"  answered  Allan  gallantly,  "I  am  a 
friend  to  his  daughter.  I  think  I  have  heard  of 
your  relatives  there,  the  Markleys.  Some  such 
name  was  among  those  signing  my  call." 

"Yes,"  said  Mabel,  "uncle,  as  I  call  him,  is  one 
of  the  leaders  in  your  church,  but  papa  does  not 
think  he  is  a  very  religious  man.  His  son  is  the 


rALLAN  RUTLEDGE  21 

leader  of  the  choir,  but  I  have  not  been  in  Well- 
ington for  several  years." 

"Wellington  the  next  stop,"  shouted  the  brake- 
man  of  the  train. 

The  engine  gave  a  long,  shrill  whistle,  and  the 
cars  began  to  slow  down,  as  the  scattering  houses 
on  the  outskirts  of  Wellington  darted  past. 

Allan  took  Miss  Grayson's  baggage  and  his  own 
and  led  the  way  to  the  platform.  When  he  had 
placed  the  suit  cases  on  the  ground,  he  turned  and 
gracefully  assisted  Miss  Grayson  to  alight.  As 
they  stood  together,  they  presented  a  striking  ap- 
pearance, and  many  turned  to  look,  and  to  inquire 
who  they  were. 

Tall,  strong,  manly  and  handsome,  Allan  looked 
every  inch  a  man,  while  Miss  Grayson's  fair  com- 
plexion, beautiful  features  and  sparkling  blue  eyes» 
made  a  charming  picture  of  budding  womanhood. 

"How  are  you,  my  cousin,"  said  a  rich,  deep 
voice;  and  both  Allan  and  Miss  Grayson  turned 
and  met  a  young  man  of  Allan's  own  age.  He  was 
decidedly  dark  like  Allan,  but  otherwise  the  two 
men  were  in  marked  contrast.  There  were  marks 
of  dissipation  on  the  face  of  the  newcomer,  and 
his  eyes  had  a  hard,  cynical  expression.  He  was1 
dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  but  rather  too 
loud  to  be  in  good  taste. 

"Why,  Frederick,  you  have  come  to  meet  us," 
said  Mabel  Grayson  pleasantly,  and  then  turning 
to  Allan,  she  introduced  him  to  the  stranger. 
"Mr.  Rutledge,"  she  said,  "I  want  you  to  meet  my 
cousin,  Frederick  Markley." 


28  THE    VICTORY   OF 

The  young  men  looked  at  each  other  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  though  each  measured  the  other's 
strength,  and  then  they  shook  hands  without  a 
word.  There  was  no  warmth  in  the  greeting  on 
either  side. 

Markley  knew  that  Rutledge  was  the  new  pastor 
of  the  Wellington  Church,  but  a  minister  was  not 
a  person  held  in  high  regard  by  him.  Because  he 
was  a  preacher  Markley  felt  a  kind  of  contempt  for 
Allan,  but  because  he  saw  in  him  manliness  and 
authority  he  could  not  but  acknowledge  his  super- 
iority. 

Allan  saw  into  Markley's  character  at  a  glance. 
The  loud  style  of  clothing,  the  cynical  glance,  the 
dissipated  look,  all  proclaimed  a  young  man  void 
of  character  and  principle.  It  seemed  to  Allan  un- 
fortunate that  he  should  meet  such  a  church  mem- 
ber on  his  arrival  at  Wellington. 

"Deacon  Stanford  is  waiting  for  you  in  his  car- 
riage at  the  end  of  the  depot,"  said  Markley,  at 
last,  adding  in  a  slighting  tone  of  voice,  "You're 
the  new  preacher,  arn't  you?" 

"My  name  is  Allan  Rutledge,"  said  Allan 
shortly. 

He  turned  and  cordially  bade  Mabel  Grayson 
good-by. 

As  Markley  saw  the  light  in  Mabel's  eyes,  as  she 
followed  Allan's  manly  form  with  her  glance,  he 
muttered  under  his  breath:  "Damn  a  preacher, 
anyhow." 

Since  Mr.  Frederick  Markley  was  the  leading 
young  man  in  the  Wellington  Church,  and  the  di- 
rector of  its  worship  in  praise,  his  reception  of  his 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  29 

new  pastor,  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge,  was  not  very 
auspicious  for  the  future  peace  and  harmony  of  the 
church.  Anything  at  all  likely  to  disturb  these 
two  prime  essentials  in  a  church,  peace  and  har- 
mony, would  have  caused  Dr.  Anning  to  hazard 
his  very  soul,  but  Allan  Rutledge  was  a  different 
type  of  minister.  He  had  a  passion  in  his  soul, 
something  for  which  he  hungered  and  thirsted,  but 
it  was  not  a  passion  for  merely  peace  and  harmony. 
He  believed  the  wisdom  from  above  was  "first 
pure — then  peaceable."  Like  America's  great  war 
President,  Allan  Rutledge  was  ready  to  fight  for 
righteousness,  and  fight  for  it  even  if  it  cost  him 
his  life. 

When  Allan  reached  the  end  of  the  station  plat- 
form, he  found  Deacon  Stanford,  one  of  the  offi- 
cers of  the  church,  awaiting  him  with  a  carriage. 
Introducing  himself,  Allan  stepped  into  the  vehicle 
and  was  soon  passing  over  the  newly  paved  streets 
of  Wellington. 

'We  are  glad  you  have  come,  Mr.  Rutledge," 
said  Deacon  Stanford  warmly,  as  they  drove  along. 
"We  feel  sure  God  has  sent  you  among  us." 

The  sincerity  of  his  tone  cheered  Allan  and 
helped  to  efface  the  discouragment  which  he  felt 
after  this  brief  meeting  with  Frederick  Markley. 

"I  will  do  my  duty  in  Wellington,"  said  Allan 
quietly,  "and  I  hope  I  shall  be  of  real  service  to 
the  church  and  to  the  community." 

"You  will,"  said  the  older  man,  in  deep  earnest. 
"I  know  you  will  do  us  all  good.  We  need  a  re- 
vival of  religion  here  and  I  am  sure  you  can  help 
us." 


30     THE  VICTOR Y  OF  ALLAN  R  UT LEDGE 

Allan's  spirit  began  to  rise,  and  soon  he  and  Mr. 
Stanford  were  on  intimate  terms.  Wellington's 
new  minitser  had  come,  but  Wellington  little  real- 
ized at  first  what  this  would  mean. 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN  MARKLEY'S  FACTORY. 

The  whistle  had  just  blown  at  the  close  of  the 
noon  hour  and  the  men  were  hurrying  to  their 
places  in  Markley's  factory.  It  was  midwinter, 
just  two  months  after  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  ar- 
rived in  Wellington. 

The  various  farm  implements  which  Markley 
manufactured  had  a  wide  sale  in  the  agricultural 
States  of  Iowa,  Illinois,  Missouri  and  Nebraska, 
and  the  factory  was  a  paying  concern.  It  gave, 
steady  employment  to  the  hands,  but  the  larger 
share  of  the  profits  went  into  Markley's  coffers. 
He  was  noted  for  paying  the  lowest  possible 
wages.  Most  of  his  employees  were  foreigners, 
who  were  more  docile  than  American  workmen. 

A  group  of  men  entered  the  paint  shop  on  the 
second  floor  on  this  particular  day.  They  were 
an  interesting  group  from  an  ethic  viewpoint,  and 
presented  one  of  the  most  fascinating  sights  to  a 
student  of  America's  destiny.  In  this  paint  shop, 
as  in  all  our  Church  and  State,  educational  and 
commercial  life,  various  races  were  being  blended 
into  one  American  type, 

"Time's  noblest  offspring  and  the  last.** 
*  31 


32  THE    VICTORY   OF 

The  foreman  of  this  room  in  the  factory  was 
Robert  McGregor,  a  sturdy  Scotchman. 

A  German,  Luther  Schneider,  was  the  head 
painter,  who  performed  the  work  requiring  special 
skill  with  the  brush. 

A  little  Dutchman,  Jake  Borner,  was  the  second 
painter. 

Pat  McGinnis  presided  at  the  "dipping  vat.'' 
This  was  a  long  tank,  filled  with  paint,  into  wl  ch 
parts  of  implements  were  dipped,  a  quick  and  sure 
method  of  painting. 

Two  Bohemians  completed  the  number  of  work- 
men in  the  room.  One  of  these  we  recognize  as 
our  old  friend,  father  of  the  unfortunate  Viola, 
Mr.  Antol.  He  is  still  sad  looking,  and  the  six 
months  in  which  he  had  brooded  over  the  tragic 
fate  of  his  beautiful  daughter  had  left  their  marks 
upon  him.  He  and  another  countryman  of  his, 
Louis  Antoine,  were  the  "helpers." 

They  all  spoke  English,  but  most  of  them  used 
the  language  with  a  strong  foreign  accent,  which 
showed  alien  birth. 

As  they  began  work  after  the  noonday  hour, 
Louis  Antoine,  one  of  the  Bohemian  "helpers," 
was  assisting  the  Irishman,  Pat  McGinnis,  in  dip- 
ping some  cultivator  irons  in  the  paint  tank.  An- 
toine was  a  reader  of  infidel  literature,  and  he  had 
lately  perused  some  Bohemian  attacks  on  religion, 
which  evidently  had  soured  his  temper.  As  the 
irons  sank  in  the  oozy  paint,  Antoine  remarked: 

"I  would  like  to  soak  every  priest  on  earth  like 
that." 

Pat  looked  up  quickly  at  his  companion,  and  see- 


33 

ing  the  bitter  expression  on  his  face,  he  held  his 
own  quick,  Celtic  temper  in  restraint,  and  asked : 

"An'  what  have  ye  agin  the  priests?" 

"Ach,"  said  Antoine,  "they  are  all  liars  and 
frauds." 

"Jesus  Christ  was  no  fraud,"  said  the  Irishman, 
whose  temper  was  fast  becoming  hot  against  the 
unbelieving  Bohemian. 

"Ach,"  said  the  unbeliever,  "he  was  the  worst 
curse  the  world  ever  saw,  a  poor  fool  bastard." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  Christian  Irishman. 
All  the  holdback  straps  in  his  nature  gave  way. 
He  dropped  the  cultivator  irons  into  the  tank  of 
paint,  and  landed  a  stunning  blow  on  the  sur- 
prised Bohemian's  ear. 

"Take  that,  ye  ungodly  blasphemer!"  said  the 
irate  son  of  Erin.  "Begorra,  I'll  dip  your  haythen 
mug  in  the  paint  meself." 

In  a  moment  the  two  men  were  clinching  each 
other,  and  swaying  backward  and  forward  by  the 
side  of  the  big  paint  tank.  It  looked  as  though 
both  of  them  would  fall  in.  The  other  men  left 
their  work  and  watched  the  struggle. 

The  foreman,  McGregor,  had  overheard  the  con^ 
versation  and  sympathized  with  the  Irishman. 
Feeling  sure  Pat  could  punish  the  insolent  Bohe- 
mian, he  let  the  fight  go  -on. 

Out  over  the  floor  the  two  struggling  champions 
of  faith  and  unbelief  worked  their  way.  Antoine 
was  a  little  heavier  than  the  Irishman,  but  Pat  had 
the  stronger  grip.  Besides,  Pat  was  fired  with 
religious  frenzy  at  the  insult  to  his  faith. 
t*  A  wheel  was  lying  on  the  floor  and  Pat  forced 


34  THE    VICTORY   OF 

his  antagonist  upon  it,  and  tripped  him  on  its 
spokes.  Both  fell  over  the  wheel  with  a  resound- 
ing thud,  but  Antoine  was  underneath.  Pat 
gripped  his  throat,  like  a  bulldog,  and  began  to 
pummel  his  fallen  foe. 

"Will  ye  tak'  it  back?"  he  was  shouting.  "Will 
ye  tak'  it  back,  bad  scran  to  ye?" 

"Let  go,"  gasped  Antoine,  getting  frightened  at 
the  Irishman's  fury. 

"Will  you  tak'  it  back?"  again  demanded  Pat,  re- 
leasing his  hold  a  trifle. 

"Yes;  let  me  up,"  begged  the  Bohemian. 

"Do  ye  promise  never  to  spayke  to  me  like  you 
did  agin?"  said  Erin's  triumphant  son. 

"Yes;  you're  killing  me.  Let  me  up,"  answered 
the  now  fully  conquered  infidel. 

"Do  ye  confess  Christ  was  divine?"  said  Pat,  in 
terrible  earnest,  pushing  his  victory  to  the  limit. 

"I  do,"  meekly  answered  Antoine. 

"I  hav'  a  good  notion  to  drown  ye  right  now 
in  the  tank,  and  save  your  soul,  before  ye  recant, 
ye  haythen,"  said  the  champion  of  the  faith. 

"Let  him  up,  McGinnis,"  said  the  foreman,  Mc- 
Gregor, coming  forward.  "We  all  heard  his  prom- 
ise and  he  won't  insult  your  religion  again." 

Pat  got  up,  and  the  foreman  helped  the  pros- 
trate and  gasping  Bohemian  to  his  feet. 

Mr.  Antol  took  Antoine's  place,  as  Pat's  helper 
at  the  tank,  and  the  work  of  the  shop  went  on  as 
usual. 

The  fight  started  a  religious  discussion  among 
the  men  and  arguments  were  getting  warm.  Fore- 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  35 

man    McGregor   wanted   no   more    religious    wars 
that  day,  and  so  he  intervened: 

"No  more  of  this  talk  now,  boys,"  he  said,  in  a 
good-natured  way.  "I'll  tell  you  what  you  all 
do.  Go  down  to  church  next  Sunday  morning  and 
hear  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  preach,  and  you  can  then 
talk  intelligently  on  religion.  Most  of  you  haven't 
been  to  church  in  a  dog's  age." 

McGregor  was  a  faithful  member  of  Allan's 
church,  and  he  and  Allan  were  already  good 
friends. 

"All  right,"  they  sang  out,  "we'll  go." 

"I  will  have  a  good  seat  reserved  for  the  whole 
crowd,"  said  the  foreman. 

"I  used  to  go  to  church,"  said  Antol,  with  a  tear 
In  his  eye,  "but  I  have  not  had  the  heart  to  go  the 
last  six  months ;  but  I'll  go  Sunday,  if  the  rest  go." 

Even  Antoine,  urged  by  Antol,  agreed  to  go  and 
hear  Allan. 

Allan's  fame  as  a  preacher  had  already  spread 
to  the  factory,  and  when  the  rest  of  the  men  heard 
of  the  agreement  among  the  painters  a  number  of 
them  also  planned  to  attend  church  the  next  Sun- 
day. 

As  a  result,  on  the  following  Sunday  morning 
Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  was  surprised  and  pleased  to 
see  a  crowd  of  men  filling  the  front  seats  to  the 
right  of  the  pulpit. 

He  was  at  his  best  that  morning.     His  text  was : 
"Two  men  went  up  into  the  Temple  to  pray."     He 
pictured  the  devotions  of  the  Pharisee  and  the  pub- 
lican. 
^  Never  was   the   character   of   a  formal   Pharisee 


36  THE    VICTORY   OF 

more  keenly  dissected  than  was  done  in  Allan's 
sermon.  The  Pharisee's  pride,  vanity,  unchar- 
itableness,  lack  of  genuine  piety  and  general 
emptiness  were  held  up  to  scorn. 

People  could  almost  see  the  discredited  Pharisee 
passing  out,  as  Allan  exclaimed : 

"Good-by,  old  Pharisee,  you  come  to  church, 
but  not  to  worship  God.  You  pray,  but  your 
prayer  is  a  mockery  and  an  insult  to  heaven.  You 
profess  Christ,  but  in  works  you  deny  him.  Good- 
by,  sir,  and  would  we  could  say  good-b>  to  you 
forever.  You  and  your  kind  have  cursed  and 
blighted  the  Church  of  God  in  every  age." 

The  workmen  from  Markley's  factory  glanced 
over  in  the  direction  of  their  employer's  prominent 
seat,  as  the  sermon  proceeded,  and  many  chuckled 
inwardly  as  they  saw  him  wince  and  scowl. 

Except  the  infidel,  Antoine,  who  sat  in  sullen 
defiance,  all  the  men  from  the  paint  shop  and  their 
fellow-employees  were  deeply  interested. 

After  finishing  his  portrayal  of  the  Pharisee,  the 
preacher  went  on  to  speak  of  the  publican.  As  he 
recited  the  story  of  the  wanderer's  return  to 
God's  house  Allan's  voice  changed.  His  whole 
manner  became  tender  and  sympathetic. 

There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  some  of  his 
new  hearers  that  morning,  as  Allan  commented  on 
the  publican's  prayer. 

"God  be  merciful  to  you?  Ah,  yes,  he  will  hear 
your  cry.  He  would  stop  every  harp  in  heaven 
to  hear  an  earnest,  heartfelt  sob  like  yours.  Come, 
my  brother,  give  me  your  hand.  We  are  all  sin- 
ners, and  all  alike  need  the  grace  of  God.  Go 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  37 

home  justified,  my  brother,"  he  concluded.  "Go 
home  rejoicing  in  the  love  of  your  heavenly; 
Father.  Go  home  and  tell  what  wonderful  things 
God  has  done  for  your  soul." 

A  hush  of  reverence  fell  over  the  great  congre- 
gation as  Allan  ceased.  Like  the  people  of  Drum- 
tochty,  they  felt  "they  had  heard  a  message  from 
the  Lord." 

The  closing  hymn  was  sung  with  peculiar  fer- 
vor, and  its  familiar  words  had  a  fresh  meaning 
to  many.  It  was  Charlotte  Elliott's  famous  hymn: 

"Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me, 
And  that  thou  bidst  me  come  to  thee, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come,  I  come." 

"What  did  you  think  of  Mr.  Rutledge's  sermon 
yesterday,"  asked  Foreman  McGregor,  as  the  men 
gathered  for  work  at  seven  o'clock  on  Monday 
morning. 

"Himmel,"  said  the  German,  Schneider,  "das  vas 
fine.  Py  Chiminy,  das  vas  fine." 

"Makes  von  feller  think,"  said  Dutch  Borner, 
"but  it  was  shust  fine,  shust  fine.  Ve  halluf  sich 
a  Dominine  in  Vellington  never." 

Patrick  McGinnis  was  more  enthusiastic  than 
any.  Antoine  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  so  Pat  de- 
livered himself  thus : 

"I  don't  think  the  haythen  Bohemian  will  have 
anything  now  to  say  agin  the  blissed  Christ  after 
that  sarmint.  Begorra,  he  preached  like  St. 
^Patrick." 


38  THE    VICTORY   OF 

Antoine  came  in  a  little  later,  but  made  no  re- 
marks. 

"He  iss  all  right,"  said  Antol  quietly,  as  he 
dipped  some  plow  handles  into  the  tank. 

"I  say,  boys,"  said  McGregor,  "if  I  invite  Mr. 
Rutledge  down  here  some  noon,  will  you  get  back 
at  half-past  twelve  from  dinner,  and  get  the  rest 
of  the  men  out  to  hear  him?" 

"Shure  we  will,  that,"  exclaimed  Pat  McGinnis, 
"at  once!" 

Thus  it  came  about  that  one  evening  Robert 
McGregor  called  on  Allan  and  invited  him  to  come 
down  to  the  factory  and  address  the  men  at  the 
noon  hour. 

"Have  you  spoken  to  Mr.  Markley  about  it, 
McGregor?"  asked  Allan.  . 

"No,"  said  he,  hesitating  a  little,  "I  wish  you 
would,  sir." 

"All  right,"  said  Allan.  "I  am  sure  he  will  be 
pleased  to  have  me  come.  I  will  call  and  see  him 
to-morrow  evening." 

Allan  wanted  to  call  at  Markley's  for  another 
reason.  He  saw  in  the  daily  Wellington  "Jour- 
nal" of  that  evening  that  Mabel  Grayson  was  visit- 
ing again  at  the  Markley  home  on  her  way  South 
for  the  rest  of  the  winter.  She  was  only  to  re- 
main in  Wellington  a  few  days,  and  he  was  very 
anxious  to  see  her. 

When  he  called  the  next  evening  at  the  Mark- 
ley  mansion  Mabel  saw  him  come  up  on  the  bril- 
liantly lit  porch,  and  ran  to  the  door  to  admit  him, 
«ven  before  he  knocked. 

"Come  in,  Mr.  Rutledge,"    she    said    gaily.     "I 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  39 

was  expecting  you  to  call  and  see  me.  I  am  glad 
you  are  looking  so  well  after  all  the  hard  work 
you  have  done  in  the  last  two  months." 

Allan  was  the  picture  of  health.  He  was  a  close 
student  and  a  hard  worker,  but  he  knew  the  value 
of  outdoor  exercise.  Vigorous  pedestrian  excur- 
sions in  the  woods  around  Wellington  kept  red 
corpuscles  in  his  blood. 

"Delighted  to  see  you,  Miss  Grayson,"  said 
Allan.  "I  saw  in  the  'Journal'  that  you  were  in 
town  again." 

"Come  into  the  parlor,"  said  Mabel,  leading  the 
way. 

Mr.  William  Markley  greeted  Allan  with  a  hand- 
shake. Markley  did  not  altogether  like  Allan's 
preaching,  and  some  differences  of  opinion  had 
already  come  up  between  them,  but  they  were 
still  friendly. 

Between  young  Markley,  however,  and  Allan 
there  was  already  open  hostility.  Allan  had  in- 
sisted on  appropriate  Christmas  exercises  on  the 
occasion  of  Christ's  natal  day. 

The  jolly  revelry  that  Frederick  Markley  had 
introduced  of  late  years  into  these  exercises  Allan 
frankly  characterized  as  "heathen  and  pagan,  fitter 
to  commemorate  the  birth  of  Bacchus  than  of  the 
holy  Christ." 

Markley  was  deeply  offended,  and  threatened  to- 
give  up  the  choir,  but  Allan  had  his  way.  As 
Allan  entered  the  parlor  that  evening  young 
Markley  rose  and,  with  a  gruff  "Good  evening/' 
stalked  out  of  the  room. 
^  Mrs.  Markley  was  a  dignified  society  woman, 


40  THE    VICTORY   OF 

with  a  patronizing  air,  and  she  also  bowed  coldly 
to  the  young  minister. 

The  daughter,  Grace  Markley,  was  Allan's  sin- 
cere friend,  and  greeted  him  warmly. 

After  a  while  Allan  introduced  the  subject  of 
the  invitation  to  the  factory  to  address  the  men  at 
the  noon  hour. 

"Who  gave  you  the  invitation?"  asked  Markley, 
rather  sharply. 

Allan  stared  at  him  a  moment,  and  then  an- 
swered : 

"The  invitation  came  from  the  men  themselves, 
but  Robert  McGregor  brought  it  to  me." 

"I  can't  see  why  McGregor  didn't  see  me  first 
about  the  matter,"  said  Markley,  evidently  much 
displeased. 

Allan  could  now  guess  why  McGregor  had  got- 
ten him  to  see  his  employer. 

"I  don't  think  the  Gospel  of  Christ  will  hurt 
your  workmen,"  responded  Allan,  roused  by  Mark- 
ley's  manner. 

"No,  oh,  no,"  said  he,  'but  I  do  not  believe  in 
mixing  business  and  religion.  We  have  Sunday 
for  religion." 

"I  expected  to  go  there  at  the  noon  hour,"  said 
Allan  warmly.  "I  was  not  going  to  interfere  in 
any  way  with  the  work  of  the  men.  I  am  aston- 
ished to  see  you,  an  officer  in  the  charch,  object 
to  such  a  proposition.  It  is  no  wonder  the  work- 
ingmen  are  estranged  from  the  Church." 

Mabel  Grayson  had  been  a  most  interested  lis- 
tener to  the  conversation,  and  as  Allan  finished, 
she  broke  in: 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  41 

"Why,  uncle,  I  think  such  a  noonday  service  -at 
the  factory  would  be  delightful.  We  have  such 
services  in  the  factories  in  Des  Moines.  Papa 
sometimes  addresses  them,  and  I  have  sung  at  such 
meetings  several  times.  I  would  be  glad  to  sing 
at  your  service  at  uncle's  factory,  Mr.  Rutledge," 
she  concluded,  turning  to  the  astonished  Allan. 

"Oh,  won't  that  be  nice,  and  T.  will  go  with  you," 
chimed  in  Grace  Markley. 

Allan  saw  he  had  won  the  day  and  gave  Mabel 
a  look  of  gratitude,  as  he  turned  to  the  discomfited 
Markley,  and  said : 

"It  is  all  arranged.  Rutledge  and  party  will 
visit  the  factory  day  after  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Markley  had  to  submit  as  gracefully  as  he 
could,  but  Allan  could  see  he  did  not  think  very 
highly  of  the  enterprise. 

When  it  was  announced  at  the  factory  that  Rev. 
Allan  Rutledge  would  speak  at  the  noon  hour  to 
the  men,  and  that  Miss  Mabel  Grayson,  of  Des 
Moines,  would  sing,  the  men  were  greatly  inter- 
ested. 

The  workers  in  the  paint  shop  were  a  committee 
of  arrangements,  and  at  12.30  on  the  appointed  day 
the  whole  force  of  about  100  men  were  gathered 
in  the  shipping  room.  Some  stood,  some  sat  on 
boxes  and  barrels,  some  squatted  on  the  floor,  but 
it  was  an  earnest,  intelligent  audience.  Some  of 
the  men  were  newer  immigrants  from  different 
parts  of  Europe,  and  could  not  understand  Eng- 
lish very  well,  but  all  were  reverent  and  attentive. 

Robert  McGregor  was  master  of  ceremonies, 
afcly  assisted  by  Pat  McGinnis. 


42  THE    VICTORY   OF 

"Rape  quiet,"  said  Pat  to  the  men,  in  a  stage 
whisper.  "Here  they  come." 

Allan  was  accompanied  by  Mabel  Grayson  and 
Grace  Markley,  but  the  elder  Markley  refused  to 
come.  No  one  remarked  on  his  absence.  His 
presence  at  such  a  meeting  would  have  surprised 
the  men.  After  a  few  words  of  kindly  greeting, 
Allan  introduced  Miss  Grayson. 

With  a  clear,  strong,  soprano  voice,  Mabel  sang 
the  old  familiar  hymn: 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly, 
While    the    nearer    waters    roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  nigh. 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour,  hide, 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past, 
Safe  into  the  'haven  guide; 

O  receive  my  soul  at  last." 

As  the  beautiful  words  floated  over  the  audience 
of  rough  men,  in  their  working  clothes,  the  whole 
scene  was  transformed.  A  light  beamed  in  the 
men's  faces.  A  glory  lit  up  the  rude  shipping 
room. 

When  the  last  notes  of  the  hymn  died  away, 
Allan  rose  quietly  to  speak.  Every  man  was  in- 
tent to  hear.  There  was  absolute  stillness.  He 
began  by  thanking  them  for  the  invitation,  and 
also  for  the  attendance  of  so  many  at  church  on 
the  previous  Sabbath. 

"I  believe  the  Church  and  the  workingmen 
ought  to  get  closer  together,"  Allan  went  on  to 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  43 

say.  "The  Lord  Jesus  was  a  workingman"  (Pat 
nudged  Antoine  at  this).  "The  Gospel  is  especial- 
ly for  the  toilers  of  the  world.  No  one  needs  Jesus 
more  than  you  men  do.  Jesus  has  elevated  labor. 
He  has  dignified  work.  The  common  people  heard 
him  gladly  when  he  was  on  earth,  and  Christ's 
best  friends  to-day  are  among  the  working  people. 
The  Church  stands  for  universal  brotherhood,  for 
justice  between  man  and  man,  for  the  rights  of 
humanity.  Come  into  the  Church,  men,  and 
make  the  Church  your  own.  The  Church  needs 
you,  and  cannot  accomplish  its  God-given  task  of 
uplifting  the  world  until  the  breach  between  the 
Church  and  labor  is  healed. 

"Our  own  American  poet,  Foss,  had  in  him  the 
spirit  of  a  Christian  and  an  American  when  he 
said: 

"  'Let  me  live  in  a  house  by  the  side  of  the  road, 

Where  the  race  of  men  go  by, 
The  men  that  are  good,  and  the  men  that  are  bad, 

As  good  and  as  bad  as  I. 

"  'I  would  not  sit  in  the  scorner's  chair, 

Or  hurl  the  cynic's  ban; 
Let  me  live  in  a  house  by  the  side  of  the  road 

And  be  a  friend  to  man.' " 

He  spoke  only  fifteen  minutes,  but  he  crowded 
every  sentence  with  his  message.  When  he 
ceased  there  was  a  momentary  hush,  and  then  the 
njen  broke  out  in  loud  cheers.  Pat  McGinnis 


44     THE  VICTOR  Y  OF  ALLAN  R UT 'LEDGE 

jumped  on  a  box,  waving  his  arms  excitedly,  and 
shouted : 

"Three  cheers  for  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge!" 

The  cheers  were  given  with  a  will,  and  the  raft- 
ers rang  wrth  shouts  of  Germans,  Bohemians, 
Frenchmen,  Hollanders,  Scotch  and  Irishmen. 
The  address  of  Allan  had,  for  the  moment,  fused 
them  into  unity,  for  he  touched  the  common  chord 
of  humanity  and  religion. 

As  Allan  made  his  way  out  of  the  shipping 
room,  a  Bohemian,  with  tears  rolling  down  his 
cheeks,  put  out  his  hand,  and  said  brokenly:  "Mr. 
Rutledge,  I  am  Antol,  Viola's  father.  Viola  used 

to  sing  that  hymn  the  lady  sang.  She "  But 

he  could  go  no  further,  bursting  into  uncon- 
trollable weeping. 

"Yes,  yes,  my  poor  brother,"  said  Allan,  who 
had  already  called  at  the  Antol  home,  "I  know. 
May  God  help  you." 

"Viola "  began  the  man  again,  but  tears 

choked  his  utterance  and  he  turned  away,  his 
whole  frame  trembling  with  his  sobs. 

Pat  McGinnis  took  him  tenderly  by  one  arm, 
and  Louis  Antoine  took  the  other  in  silent  sym- 
pathy, as  they  went  up  the  stairs  to  the  paint 
room. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
A  PUBLIC  SALE  ON  AN   IOWA  FARM. 

"Come  out  to  my  sale  next  Thursday,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge,"  said  Silas  Stanford  to  the  pastor  at  Well- 
ington, one  Sabbath  morning,  not  long  after  the 
factory  meeting. 

Silas  was  a  brother  of  Deacon  Stanford.  He 
had  lived  on  his  farm,  seven  miles  from  Welling- 
ton, from  pioneer  days,  and  was  about  to  sell  out 
his  stock  and  farm  machinery,  preparatory  to  mov- 
ing into  town.  x 

His  son  was  soon  to  be  married,  and,  as  is  cus- 
tomary with  farmers  in  the  Middle  West  when 
they  get  old,  Silas  Stanford  was  going  to  retire 
and  turn  over  the  farm  to  the  young  people. 

"All  right,"  said  Allan  heartily,  "I  will  be  glad 
to  come.  I  hear  you  have  some  fine  horses  on 
your  place  and  I  want  to  get  one  for  my  father." 

Wellington  was  a  center  for  good  horses  in  that 
country,  and  Allan's  father  had  asked  him  to  be 
on  the  lookout  for  a  good  draft  animal. 

The  next  Thursday  morning  Allan  bundled  him- 
self up  in  a  warm  fur  coat  and  heavy  overshoes, 
and  drove  out  with  Deacon  Stanford  to  the  sale. 
It  was  a  cold  winter  day.  There  was  a  heavy  fall 
of  snow  on  the  ground  and  the  thermometer  was 
only  a  few  degrees  above  zero. 

* 

45 


46  THE    VICTORY   OF 

A  big  crowd  of  men  had  gathered  in  the  yard 
by  the  time  they  arrivedz  and  many  greeted  Allan 
cordially,  as  a  number  of  his  church  members 
were  present.  They  were  somewhat  surprised  to 
see  him  at  a  sale.  Dr.  Anning  would  no  more 
have  thought  of  going  to  a  public  sale  than  he 
would  of  attending  a  dog  fight. 

These  public  sales  on  the  Western  farms  during 
the  winter  months  are  the  great  social  gatherings 
for  all  the  men  of  the  neighborhood.  The  farm- 
ers generally  gather  about  eleven  o'clock  and  a 
free  lunch  is  served  to  all.  This  lunch  consists 
simply  of  hot  coffee  and  sandwiches,  though  oc- 
casionally doughnuts,  or  cake,  are  added. 

Allan  looked  with  delight  on  the  large  gathering 
of  strong,  husky  American  citizens  in  Silas  Stan- 
ford's yard  that  day.  These  men,  or  their  fathers, 
hailed  from  almost  every  European  country,  but 
they  were  being  rapidly  fused  into  one  new  peo- 
ple. 

The  most  wholesome  phase  of  America's  varie- 
gated life  to-day  is  its  farm  life,  especially  in  the 
Middle  West. 

On  the  fertile  plains  of  the  Mississippi  and  Mis- 
souri valleys  the  various  nationalities  mingle,  in- 
termarry, grow  independent,  and  become  the  back- 
bone of  American  institutions. 

"Come  into  the  house  and  get  warm,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge!"  said  Silas  Stanford,  coming  forward  to 
greet  Allan.  "Come  right  in!  We  want  you  to 
eat  dinner  with  us  inside." 

Inside  the  commodious  farmhouse  there  was  as 
animated  a  scene  as  outside. 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  47 

Mrs.  Stanford,  assisted  by  several  neighbors, 
had  prepared  a  dinner  worthy  of  a  "sale,"  and  to 
this  sumptuous  repast  all  the  relations  and  close 
friends  were  invited. 

The  auctioneer  and  the  "clerk"  of  the  sale  (who 
kept  record  of  all  the  buyers)  also  were  part  of  the 
company.  Allan  and  Deacon  Stanford  sat  to- 
gether at  the  table.  Right  opposite  them  was 
Billy  Johnson,  the  auctioneer,  a  jovial  character 
who  had  cried  sales  around  Wellington  for  over 
twenty  years. 

"My  stars,"  he  ejaculated  as  Allan  was  intro- 
duced to  him,  "you're  the  first  preacher  I  have 
seen  at  a  sale  in  many  a  year." 

"I  came  out  to  get  some  pointers  from  you,  Mr. 
Johnson,"  said  Allan  laughingly.  "I  hear  you  can 
sell  any  old  thing  at  your  auction  sales,  while  1 
have  something  valuable  to  give  away,  and  I  gen- 
erally find  few  to  accept  it." 

"Oh,  I  just  keep  the  crowd  good-natured  and 
give  them  a  little  'blarney'  once  in  a  while,"  said 
the  auctioneer. 

"That  reminds  me  of  an  Irishman  I  met  in  the 
village  of  Blarney,  when  I  was  visiting  Blarney 
Castle  in  Ireland  last  year,"  said  Allan,  who 
wished  to  break  up  the  silence  and  restraint  that 
his  presence  seemed  to  impose  on  most  of  those 
present  at  the  dinner  table. 

"Tell  us  of  the  Irishman,"  said  Billy  Johnson  at 
once;  "Paddy's  always  the  broth  of  a  boy." 

"Well,  I  asked  this  Irishman  if  he  ever  ate  let- 
tuce, as  we  were  talking  of  garden  herbs.  'No/ 
sjiid  he,  'I  don't  like  lettuce,  and  I'm  glad  I  don't 


48  THE    VICTORY   OF. 

like  it,  for  if  I  liked  it  I  would  eat  it,  and  I  just 
hate  the  stuff.' " 

The  company  laughed  heartily  at  this  Irish  joke, 
ana  the  conversation  brightened  around  the  table. 
As  the  dinner  proceeded  and  Mrs.  Stanford 
brought  on  dish  after  dish  of  all  kinds  of  tempting 
food,  Allan  did  full  justice  to  the  meal.  The  cold 
drive  had  sharpened  his  appetite. 

"My  stars,"  said  Billy  Johnson  at  last,  as  he 
watched  Allan  enjoying  his  meal,  as  only  a  man 
with  a  hearty  appetite  can  enjoy  such  a  repast; 
"my  stars,  I  wish  I  had  a  little  piece  of  your  appe- 
tite. I  wouldn't  want  it  all.  It  would  be  too  ex- 
pensive." 

"I  was  brought  up  on  an  Iowa  farm,"  answered 
Allan,  "and  I  feel  at  home  to-day.  If  the  stuff 
for  sale  to-day  disappears  as  fast  as  these  victuals, 
you  won't  be  long  in  getting  through  with  the 
sale." 

"The  coffee  and  sandwiches  outside  have  already 
disappeared,"  said  the  auctioneer,  looking  out  of 
the  window.  "Let  us  hurry  out  to  work.  The 
crowd  is  waiting  for  us  to  begin." 

Before  starting  the  sale  Billy  Johnson  mounted 
a  wagon  and  made  a  little  speech  to  the  crowd. 
He  told  of  Silas  Stanford's  good  qualities,  and  how 
he  was  about  to  retire  for  a  well  earned  rest  in 
town.  He  urged  all  to  bid  lively,  as  a  good  sale 
helped  a  community  and  showed  how  enterprising 
they  were. 

"I  see  a  preacher  here,"  continued  the  auc- 
tioneer, turning  to  Allan,  "and  I  must  tell  you  a 
preacher  story  before  I  begin.  Down  South,  be- 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  49 

fore  the  war,  a  colored  preacher  was  explaining 
about  Moses  crossing  the  Red  Sea: 

"  'You  see,  bredren/  said  he,  'it  was  like  this. 
It  was  an  awfu'  cold  night  an'  de  Red  Sea  frooze 
over  and,  early  in  de  mornin',  de  Isrilites  went 
ober  on  de  ice.  Den  de  fool  Egypshuns  started 
arter  dem,  and  de  sun  rose,  and  melt  de  ice,  and 
de  enemies  of  Gord  were  all  drowned,  'cause  de  ice 
broke.'  After  the  sermon  one  of  his  more  edu- 
cated hearers  spoke  to  him  about  his  explanation, 
and  told  him  that  his  geography  told  him  the  Red 
Sea  was  near  the  equator,  where  it  never  froze  ice 
at  all.  The  colored  preacher  was  highly  indignant 
when  his  sermon  was  criticised  in  this  way,  and 
answered,  'Broder,  you  tinks  yous  knows  it  all, 
but  I  want  to  tell  yous  dat  dis  time  dat  I'm  talkin' 
of  was  long  befo'  dey  had  any  jogrefays  and  long 
befo'  dere  was  any  'quator.'  " 

Allan  laughed  heartily  with  the  crowd  as  the 
auctioneer  finished  his  story,  and  then  the  serious 
work  of  the  day  began. 

All  the  smaller  articles  were  auctioned  off  first. 
These  were  quickly  disposed  of.  Then  came  the 
farm  machinery  and  wagons.  Bidding  was  get- 
ting slow.  Many  of  the  farmers  were  talking  loud- 
ly to  one  another. 

Billy  Johnson  saw  it  was  high  time  for  him  to 
attract  attention  again.  This  he  did  in  an  effective 
way. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  shouted,  so  that  all  be- 
gan to  listen;  "what's  the  matter  with  you  folks? 
Have  you  all  gone  to  sleep?  Wake  up.  You're 
Credit  as  well  as  mine  is  at  stake.  I  am  bid  two 


50  THE    VICTORY   OF 

dollars  on  this  corn  plow.  Think  of  a  good  corn 
plow  selling  for  two  dollars.  You  fellows  ought 
to  be  made  to  cultivate  corn  with  a  hoe.  Wake 
up.  What  do  I  hear?  Two  dollars  are  bid. 
Who'll  make  it  four?" 

This  little  piece  of  ginger  on  the  auctioneer's 
part  put  new  life  into  the  bidding. 

"Four,"  cried  a  young  farmer. 

"I  have  four  dollars  for  this  corn  plow,"  went 
on  the  indefatigable  Billy;  "who'll  make  it  five?" 

Some  one  raised  the  bid  to  five  dollars. 

"Now,  who'll  make  it  five  and  a  half?"  (Five 
and  a  half  was  bid.)  "Are  you  done?  All  done? 
Bid  six  dollars,  or  I'll  sell  this  fine  twenty-dollar 
plow  for  five  dollars  and  a  half.  Shame  on  you." 

The  bid  was  raised  to  six,  then  seven,  then  eight, 
and  finally  the  plow  was  sold  for  twelve  dollars. 

When  the  hogs  and  cattle  were  put  up  interest 
in  the  sale  quickened,  and  a  big  circle  formed 
around  the  auctioneer.  After  the  cattle  were  dis- 
posed of  the  horses  were  led  out,  last  of  all.  This 
is  by  far  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  sale,  for, 
like  the  governors  of  ancient  feasts,  modern  auc- 
tioneers at  public  sales  keep  the  best  to  the  last. 
A  magnificent  team  of  blacks  were  led  out,  amid 
a  chorus  of  such  remarks  as  "Two  black  beauties," 
"That's  a  dandy  team,"  "Fine  horses,"  "Hard  to 
beat  that  pair." 

Billy  Johnson  called  for  bids.  Allan  made  up 
his  mind  that  one  of  these  black  horses  was  just 
what  his  father  wanted,  but  he  disliked  to  break 
the  team,  as  they  were  so  well  matched. 

There  was  a  horse  buyer  from  a  neighboring  city 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  51 

present,  a  big,  burly  fellow,  and,  as  he  looked  the 
team  over  he  asked,  "Do  we  bid  on  one  or  both?" 

"One  man  will  surely  want  the  pair,"  said  the 
auctioneer  evasively.  "They  are  perfect  mates. 
What  do  I  hear?" 

"I'll  bid  two  hundred  and  fifty  on  this  nearest 
horse,"  said  the  horse  buyer.  Of  course  he  wanted 
the  team,  but  he  thought  if  he  took  them  one  at 
a  time  he  could  get  them  cheaper. 

The  auctioneer  hesitated  to  accept  the  bid.  Two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  was  the  full  value  of  the 
animal,  and  at  last  Billy  Johnson  accepted  the 
offer,  saying,  "I'll  sell  you  one  at  a  time,  if  you 
like." 

No  one  raised  the  bid  and  the  horse  was 
"knocked  down"  to  the  horse  buyer. 

"What  do  I  hear  for  this  other  horse.  It  is 
worth  just  as  much,"  cried  the  auctioneer.  "One 
hundred  dollars,"  said  the  horse  buyer.  No  one 
raised  the  bid.  Then  the  auctioneer  realized  he 
had  made  a  bad  mistake  in  splitting  the  team.  The 
farmers  would  not  buy  a  single  horse  unless  they 
could  match  it,  as  teams  are  used  universally  on 
Iowa  farms.  The  horse  buyer  smiled  in  triumph. 
That  was  his  trick,  to  get  the  one  horse,  and  then 
bid  in  the  other  at  his  own  price." 

By  hard  work  the  auctioneer  finally  raised  the 
bid  to  one  hundred  and  fifty.  There  it  stuck. 
Billy  Johnson  was  in  despair. 

Allan  had  been  an  interested  observer  of  the 
whole  business  from  the  start.  He  made  up  his 
mind  to  enter  the  list. 

seventy-five."     A    pistol    shot   would    not 


52  THE   VICTORY  OF 

have  surprised  the  crowd  more  as  Allan's  voice 
rang  out  the  bid. 

"One  eighty,"  said  the  horse  buyer,  with  a  frown. 

"Two  hundred,"  shouted  Allan. 

The  crowd  cheered.  Interest  was  now  at  a  high 
pitch.  The  farmers  were  craning  their  necks  and 
watching  the  two  bidders,  as  sports  do  the  prin- 
cipals in  a  prize  fight. 

"Two  ten,"  said  the  horse  buyer,  with  an  oath. 

"Two  twenty-five." 

"Two  thirty." 

"Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars."  Allan's  blood 
was  up. 

The  horse  buyer  paused.  That  was  the  full 
value  of  the  horse,  and  he  knew  it.  Even  at  that 
price  there  was  no  profit  in  the  team  for  him.  But 
he  needed  the  horse  to  match  the  one  already 
bought.  His  trick  had  failed  ignominiously. 

"Two  fifty-five,"  he  growled. 

"Two  sixty."  Allan  snapped  out  his  bid  like 
the  click  of  a  revolver. 

The  horse  buyer  was  furious.  He  could  not 
afford  to  raise  the  bid,  and  he  was  angry  at  his 
defeat.  Instead  of  getting  a  cheap  team,  as  he 
figured,  he  had  gotten  only  one  horse  at  the  full 
price. 

"Are  you  done?  All  done?"  cried  the  auctioneer. 
"Sold  to  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  for  two  hundred  and 
sixty  dollars." 

"Good  for  the  preacher!"  some  one  shouted,  and 
the  men  cheered.  They  had  seen  through  the 
horse  buyer's  trick  and  they  were  glad  to  see  Allan 
teach  him  a  lesson. 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  53 

As  Allan  was  leading  the  horse  away  he  passed 
beside  the  enraged  horse  buyer. 

" you,  I  made  you  pay  for  it  anyway,"  mut- 
tered the  big  fellow,  who  evidently  had  been 
drinking  some. 

Allan's  face  flushed  at  the  insult.  His  dark 
eyes  gleamed,  but  he  restrained  himself  and  coolly 
said  to  a  man  beside  him,  "Hold  this  horse  a  min- 
ute, if  you  please."  Givng  the  horse  into  the 
man's  care  he  turned  and  faced  the  surprised 
horse  buyer.  "What  did  you  say  to  me?"  he  de- 
manded. The  big  fellow  looked  the  athletic  minis- 
ter over,  and  decided  that  Allan  could  worst  him 
in  more  ways  than  in  buying  a  horse. 

"Why,  nothing,"  he  answered  in  confusion.  ''I 
said  you  paid  a  big  price  for  your  bargain." 

"Didn't  I  buy  that  horse  straight?"  asked  Allan 
sternly. 

"Why,  of  course,"  muttered  the  crest-fallen 
bully. 

The  crowd  was  leaving  the  auctioneer  and  gath- 
ering round  the  two  disputants. 

"Act  like  a  gentleman  after  this  when  nobody 
has  wronged  you,"  was  Allan's  parting  shot,  as  he 
took  the  halter  of  his  horse. 

The  horse  buyer  slunk  away  amid  the  jeers  of 
the  crowd. 

"That  preacher  is  a  man,  all  right,"  said  a  big, 
husky  farmer,  who  looked  like  a  grizzly  bear  in  his 
fur  coat  and  cap. 

"That's  our  new  minister  over  at  Wellington," 
«aid  one  of  Allan's  country  church  members.  "He 


54     THE  VICTOR  Y  OF  ALLAN  R UT LEDGE 

is  the  real  article.  Come  over  and  hear  him  som« 
Sunday." 

"I  haven't  been  in  church  since  my  father's 
funeral,"  said  the  farmer,  "but  I  think  I  would  like 
to  hear  a  man  like  that  preach." 

As  Allan  drove  home  with  Deacon  Stanford  the 
good  deacon  cheered  his  heart  by  repeating  some 
of  the  kindly  expressions  in  regard  to  Allan  which 
he  heard  at  the  sale  from  the  country  members. 

"They  are  all  interested,"  said  Deacon  Stanford 
with  an  enthusiasm  unusual  for  him.  "I  believe  a 
great  revival  is  coming  to  Wellington,  and  that 
you  are  God's  chosen  instrument,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge." 

"I  am  trying  to  do  my  duty  as  I  see  it,"  an- 
swered Allan  simply.  "I  thank  you  for  your  cor- 
dial support  of  my  ministry.  I  may  make  mis- 
takes, but  I  am  seeking  with  all  my  might  to  give 
out  the  message  of  the  Christ  as  I  find  it  in  the 
New  Testament.  I  have  every  confidence  in  its 
power  to  revive  a  community." 

In  the  conversation  that  followed  on  the  long 
drive  back  to  Wellington,  Deacon  Stanford  and 
the  young  preacher  grew  to  understand  each  other 
in  a  way  that,  later  on,  was  fortunate  for  both. 


CHAPTER  V. 
GRACE  MARKLEY. 

"Don't  cry,  Mrs.  Antol.  You  still  have  Frank 
and  he  will  graduate  this  year  from  high  school. 
He  is  the  youngest  boy  in  the  graduating  class, 
and  the  brightest,  his  teacher  says." 

"Oh,  child,  my  heart's  broke.  Since  Viola's 
death  I've  felt  so  strange  I  hardly  know  myself. 
Poor  Antol  is  not  the  same,  and  even  Frank  has 
changed." 

Mrs.  Antol  turned  a  tear-stained  face,  on  which 
sorrow  had  set  a  deep  mark,  toward  her  young 
visitor  as  she  spoke.  Mrs.  Antol  was  a  Bohemian 
of  better  birth  than  her  humble  neighbors,  and 
spoke  English  correctly,  but  with  a  strong,  foreign 
accent. 

This  conversation  took  place  in  the  Antol  cot- 
tage one  wintry  afternoon,  about  eight  months 
after  that  tragic  day  when  the  bleeding  body  of 
Viola  Antol  was  carried  home.  The  visitor  who 
sought  to  cheer  the  desolate  mother  was  Grace 
Markley. 

It  was  no  new  thing  for  Grace  to  visit  the  Antol 
cottage.  Ever  since  the  tragedy  in  that  humble 
home  she  had  been  a  frequent  visitor.  Mr.  Mark- 
ley  gave  both  his  son  and  daughter  a  regular  al- 

'  55 


56  THE   VICTORY  OF 

lowance  every  month.  The  son  squandered  his 
in  dissipation,  but  Grace  carefully  husbanded  every 
dollar,  and  spent  as  much  of  it  as  possible  in  doing 
good. 

Through  her  assistance  Frank  Antol  was  en- 
abled to  keep  on  at  school  that  winter,  and  grad- 
uate with  his  class.  Usually  at  his  age  the  sons 
of  the  foreigners  dropped  out  of  school  and  went 
to  work. 

Grace  had  come  that  day  especially  to  invite 
Mrs.  Antol  to  attend  church  the  next  Sabbath,  as 
Mr.  Rutledge  had  announced  that  a  series  of  Gos- 
pel meetings  would  begin  that  day,  lasting  for  two 
weeks.  This  was  a  strange  innovation  in  the 
methods  of  the  Wellington  Church,  but  the  new 
pastor  was  not  afraid  to  adopt  new  methods.  He 
had  urged  all  the  members  to  advertise  the  meet- 
ings and  to  invite  outsiders  to  attend. 

Grace  started  out  Monday  afternoon  to  carry 
out  the  pastor's  wishes  and  her  first  call  was  on 
Mrs.  Antol,  who  had  not  attended  church  since 
Viola's  death.  When  Grace  broached  the  subject, 
it  naturally  turned  the  conversation  to  Viola,  and 
the  poor  mother  had  broken  down  in  grief. 

"Mrs.  Antol,"  said  Grace,  at  last,  "it  is  quite 
wrong  for  you  to  grieve  as  you  do.  You  ought 
to  cheer  up  Mr.  Antol  and  Frank.  No  tears  will 
bring  Viola  back.  Prepare  to  meet  her  in  a  bet- 
ter world,  and  meanwhile  do  not  neglect  the  liv- 
ing in  grieving  over  the  dead." 

This  argument  seemed  to  touch  the  woman.  "I 
don't  suppose  I  have  cheered  Antol  and  Frank 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  57 

much,"  she  answered  sadly.  She  always  called 
her  husband  "Antol." 

Grace  Markley  saw  her  advantage  and  pressed 
her  case. 

"Come  out  next  Sabbath  and  bring  them  both 
with  you.  Mr.  Rutledge  will  help  you.  I  know 
he  will." 

"Antol  speaks  well  of  him.  He  never  gets  tired 
telling  of  the  shop  meeting  and  of  the  lady's  sing- 
ing, but  it  makes  him  cry  to  speak  of  it. 

"Come  out  next  Sunday,"  pleaded  Grace. 
"Promise  me  you  will." 

The  fair,  sweet,  unclouded  face  of  the  girl  was  a 
strange  contra?4-  to  the  dark,  weary,  sorrowful 
countenance  ol  the  elder  woman. 

"I'll  come,"  said  Mrs.  Antol,  at  last.  "I'll  come 
for  Frank's  sake.  He  needs  the  church. 

"Good!"  cried  Grace,  clapping  her  hands. 
"Good!  I  will  tell  Mr.  Rutledge  and  he  will  be 
pleased. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  Mrs.  Antol 
opened  it.  There  stood  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  with 
a  bundle  of  handbills.  He  offered  one  to  Mrs.  An- 
tol, saying:  "Here  is  a  notice  announcing  our  Gos- 
pel meetings  in  the  Wellington  Church.  They 
begin  next  Sabbath  evening.  Come  out  if  you 
can." 

"She  has  just  promised  me  to  come,"  said 
Grace,  coming  forward  with  the  least  suspicion  of 
a  blush  on  her  fair  cheek. 

"Good  afternoon  Miss  Markley,"  said  Allan  cor- 
dially. "You  ere  canvassing  too,  are  you?" 


58  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"Come  in  and  sit  down  for  a  moment,"  invited 
Mrs.  Antol. 

"Yes,  come  in,"  said  Grace.  "Mrs.  Antol  was 
just  telling  me  that  her  husband  never  tires  of  tell- 
ing about  your  wonderful  shop  meeting." 

A  shade  passed  over  Allan's  face,  as  he  recalled 
the  poor  Bohemian's  emotion  after  that  meeting. 
He  came  in  and  sat  down  in  silence. 

"Are  you  taking  bills  around  like  a  messenger 
boy?"  asked  Grace. 

"Why  not?"  replied  Allan.  "I  asked  the  mem- 
bers of  the  church  to  advertise  the  meetings  and 
I  must  set  a  good  example.  Some  of  the  mem- 
bers don't  need  my  example,  though  I  see,"  he 
added,  looking  at  Grace  with  a  smile. 

"If  all  your  church  members  were  like  Grace," 
said  Mrs.  Antol  gently,  "your  church  would  be  a 
wonderful  blessing  to  Wellington." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Allan,  with  enthusiasm. 

Grace  blushed  a  deep  crimson.  Her  nature  was 
such  that  she  "dreaded  praise,  not  blame."  She 
sought  to  turn  the  conversation  into  a  new  chan- 
nel by  asking  the  minister  if  he  had  ever  called  on 
Marjorie  Steen. 

"No,  who  is  Marjorie  Steen?"  asked  Allan. 

"She  is  a  poor  little  blind  girl,"  answered  Grace, 
"who  lives  in  a  shack  across  the  railroad  tracks. 
Her  father  is  a  drinking  man  and  does  not  proper- 
ly support  the  family,  but  Marjorie  and  her  mother 
are  nice  people." 

"That's  like  Miss  Grace,"  put  in  Mrs.  Antol. 
"She  soon  finds  out  those  who  need  a  little  cheer 
in  their  lives.  Heaven  knows  what  would  have 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  59 

become  of  me  if  it  had  not  been  for  you,  Miss 
Grace."  And  once  more  the  tears  came  to  the 
poor  woman's  eyes. 

"Oh,  it  is  little  I  can  do,"  said  the  girl.  "I  often 
think  if  I  were  a  man  I  would  be  able  to  do  some- 
thing worth  Avhile  for  people,  but  perhaps  if  I  were 
a  man  I  would  be  as  selfish  as  the  rest." 

"Are  all  men  selfish,  Miss  Markley?"  asked 
Allan  seriously. 

"No,  not  all,"  she  answered,  in  a  little  con- 
fusion, "but  most  men  seem  to  be.  They  look  on 
their  fellows  as  material  for  exploitation,  instead 
of  looking  on  them  as  brother  men." 

"I  see,"  said  Allan,  "you  have  been  thinking 
about  sociological  questions.  But  do  not  mistake, 
Miss  Markley,"  he  added  earnestly,  "you  are  doing 
a  noble  work  for  the  needy  in  Wellington,  grander 
than  is  possible  for  most  men." 

"I  believe  in  removing  the  causes  of  so  much 
misery  as  we  see  everywhere  in  the  world,"  per- 
sisted the  girl. 

"Ah,"  said  Allan  gravely,  "the  causes  of  most 
misery  lie  deeper  than  you  think.  Do  not  des- 
pise your  sphere  of  labor.  A  Man  once  deliberate- 
ly chose  such  a  life  of  ministry  as  yours,  and  his- 
tory is  proving  he  has  shown  how  best  to  redeem 
the  world." 

Grace  was  silent.  Allan  had  given  a  new  cur- 
rent to  her  thoughts. 

"I  would  like  to  see  Marjorie  Steen,"  continued 
Allan.     "If  you  have  time,  I  wish  you  would  take 
me  to  see  her  this  afternoon." 
f  "I  will  be  delighted !"  Grace  answered,  and  get- 


60  THE   VICTORY   OF 

ting  on  her  wraps  she  accompanied  Allan  down 
the  street. 

The  snow  had  begun  to  fall  again,  and  was  com- 
ing down  in  large,  beautiful,  feathery  flakes  as  the 
young  minister  and  Elder  Markley's  daughter 
walked  toward  the  Steen  "shack,"  as  Grace  called 
it. 

This  pitiful  dwelling  was  across  the  railroad 
tracks,  standing  by  itself  on  the  outskirts  of  Well- 
ington, as  though  banished  from  the  presence  of 
the  respectable  houses. 

There  was  a  deep  cut  on  both  sides  of  the  rail- 
road, as  it  passed  through  this  section  of  the  town, 
hiding  the  trains  from  view  until  they  were  almost 
upon  the  cross  streets. 

In  ordinary  weather  the  noise  of  an  approach- 
ing train  was  clearly  heard,  and  there  was  no  dan- 
ger, but  that  afternoon  the  falling  snow  dulled  the 
roar  of  an  approaching  engine,  and  the  wind  car- 
ried the  sound  in  an  opposite  direction. 

As  they  neared  the  track,  Grace  stepped  a  little 
ahead,  as  though  to  hurry  across,  when  suddenly 
a  big  mogul  engine  pushed  its  black  nose  into 
view,  and,  with  a  roar,  bore  down  on  the  girl. 
Miss  Markley  was  so  surprised  at  the  sudden  dan- 
ger that  she  was  helpless  to  leap  to  safety.  In 
another  instant  she  would  have  been  hurled  in  the 
air,  but,  quick  as  thought,  Allan  reached  out, 
grasped  her,  and  pulled  her  back.  She  lay  panting 
in  his  arms  as  the  California  Limited  thundered 
past. 

It  was  a  narrow  escape  and  Grace's  face  was 
white  as  the  snow  for  a  moment,  while  Allan 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  61 

steadied  her  and  offered  his  arm  for  support.     But 
Grace  quickly  recovered  herself. 

"What  a  careless  girl  I  am  getting  to  be!"  she 
exclaimed.  "I  endangered  your  life,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  I  thank  you  for  saving  mine." 

"It  was  a  close  call,"  said  Allan.  "I  am  glad  I 
was  able  to  catch  you.  Had  we  not  better  turn 
back?  After  such  a  shock  you  will  not  care  to  call 
at  Steen's." 

"Oh,  yes;  let  us  go  in,  of  course,"  she  answered. 
"We  are  right  there,  and  I  am  all  right  again." 

In  a  few  moments  both  of  them  were  inside  the 
"shack."  It  was  a  poor  hovel,  of  two  small  rooms, 
with  rough,  uncarpeted  floors,  and  an  appearance 
of  general  despair.  There  was  no  stove  except  the 
rusty  looking  cook  stove  in  the  wretched  room 
used  as  kitchen,  dining  room  and  parlor.  A  bed 
almost  filled  the  other  room.  As  Allan  looked 
around,  one  word  came  into  his  mind — "drink." 

Allan  was  right.  Drink  had  desolated  the  for- 
tunes of  the  Steens.  Even  in  prosperous  Iowa 
drink  made  such  a  poverty  stricken  hut  possible. 
August  Steen,  a  sturdy  Englishman,  the  father  and 
husband,  could  have  been  a  good  provider  for  his 
family  had  it  not  been  for  his  accursed  love  of 
liquor. 

"How  are  you  to-day,  Marjorie?"  said  Grace 
pleasantly,  as  the  mother  led  her  little  blind  daugh- 
ter, about  eight  or  nine  years  old,  toward  her. 

"I'm  lonely,"  said  the  little  one  out  of  her  dark- 
ness, as  she  groped  with  her  hands  to  find  Miss 
Markley's  face. 
**  Grace  put  out  her  arms  and  lifted  her  up.     As 


62  THE   VICTORY  OF 

soon  as  Marjorie  touched  her  cheek  with  her  hand, 
she  threw  her  arms  around  Grace's  neck,  kissing 
her  several  times. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  came  to  see  me  to-day.  I  get 
so  lonesome,"  said  the  child.  "Tell  me  a  story, 
Miss  Grace." 

"I'll  tell  you  a  story  another  day,  Marjorie,  but 
to-day  our  minister,  Mr.  Rutledge,  has  called  to  see 
you." 

"Where  is  he?"  asked  the  child. 

Allan  rose  and  knelt  in  front  of  Miss  Markley, 
saying:  "Here  I  am,  Marjorie.  I  want  to  be  your 
friend.  Kiss  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  a  story." 

He  took  the  child's  hand  and  passed  it  over  his 
cleanly  shaven  face.  Then  he  placed  it  on  his 
heavy  locks  of  hair. 

The  little  girl  was  silent,  as  though  trying  to 
learn  who  this  stranger  was  who  had  come  into 
her  little,  lonely,  dark  world.  Allan  dropped  her 
hand,  and  she  put  it  out  again  herself,  and  slowly 
passed  it  over  his  face.  This  seemed  to  fulty  as- 
sure her.  She  put  her  face  forward  and  Allan 
kissed  her  cheek  tenderly,  as  though  it  were  that 
of  his  own  child. 

"I  like  you,"  said  Marjorie  to  Allan.  "Now,  tell 
me  a  story." 

"All  right,"  said  the  minster. 

He  motioned  Mrs.  Steen  to  a  seat  and  asked : 
"Doesn't  Marjorie  like  singing?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  answered.  "I  can  sing.  I  know 
a  song  that  Miss  Grace  taught  me." 

"Sing  it  to  me,"  said  Allan. 

Marjorie  slipped  down  from   Grace's  knee,  and, 


ALLAN  RUT LEDGE  63 

standing  beside  her,  began,  in  a  clear,  sweet  voice, 
the  hymn  so  many  children  love: 

Jesus  wants  me  for  a  sunbeam, 
To  shine  for  him  each  day; 

In  every  way  try  to  please  him, 
At  home,  at  school,  at  play. 

"A  sunbeam,  a  sunbeam, 
Jesus  wants  me  for  a  sunbeam, 
A  sunbeam  a  sunbeam, 
I'll  be  a  sunbeam  for  him." 

As  she  sang,  the  strange  mystery  of  sacred  song 
again  wrought  its  metamorphosis.  The  wretched 
kitchen  in  the  old  shack  disappeared.  It  became 
a  godly  room.  In  the  gathering  shades  of  that 
winter  evening  it  seemed  to  Allan  that  cherub 
faces  hovered  around  the  little  singer.  He  felt 
himself  in  a  sanctuary.  A  strain  from  "The  Holy 
City"  mingled  with  the  song  of  the  child: 

"I  heard  the  children  singing,  and  ever  as  they 
sang, 

Methought  the  voice  of  angels  from  heaven  in  an- 
swer rang." 

There  flashed  through  his  mind  also  the  words: 
"Take  heed  that  ye  despise  not  one  of  these  little 
ones  for  I  say  unto  you  that  in  heaven  their  an- 
gels do  always  behold  the  face  of  my  Father." 

"A  long  while  ago,  Marjorie,"  he  began  quietly, 
as  soon  as  the  little  girl  was  again  seated  on  Miss 


64  THE   VICTORY   OF 

Markley's  knee,  "when  Jesus  was  on  earth  there 
was  a  blind  man,  sitting  one  day  by  the  side  of  the 
road." 

The  poor  little  fellow-sufferer  leaned  forward  in- 
tently, so  as  to  hear  all  about  the  blind  man. 

"Jesus  came  along  that  way,  and  saw  him  and 
was  very  sorry  for  him,  for  Jesus  was  always 
sorry  to  see  any  affliction.  So  Jesus  made  up  his 
mind  to  cure  this  blind  man.  He  stopped  in  front 
of  him  and  spat  on  the  ground.  Everybody  won- 
dered what  Jesus  was  going  to  do.  He  soon 
showed  them.  He  made  a  little  plaster  of  mud, 
and  put  it  on  the  man's  eyes,  and  told  him  to  go 
to  a  pool,  called  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  and  wash  off 
the  mud,  and  that  then  his  eyes  would  be  all  right. 
The  man  at  once  took  his  cane,  and,  using  it  to 
guide  him,  soon  found  his  way  to  the  pool.  He 
stooped  down  at  once  and  washed  the  mud  from 
his  eyes,  as  Jesus  told  him  to  do,  and  then  looked 
up.  He  gave  a  shout  of  joy,  for  he  found  he  was 
able  to  see.  He  was  so  glad,  he  went  home  sing- 
ing, and  shouting,  and  telling  everybody  Jesus  had 
cured  him." 

When  Allan  had  reached  this  part  of  the  simple 
Gospel  story,  little  Marjorie  slipped  down  from 
Grace's  knee,  and  walking  in  Allan's  direction  with 
outstretched  hands,  pleaded: 

"Oh,  sir,  ask  Jesus  to  cure  me.  I  want  to  see 
so  bad.  Won't  you  ask  Jesus  to  put  mud  on  my 
eyes,  so  I  can  see?" 

Allan  stopped  his  story,  put  out  his  strong 
hands,  and  lifted  the  child  in  his  arms.  Placing 
'her  gently  on  his  knee,  he  examined  carefully  her 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  65 

eyes.  As  he  looked,  Grace  watched  him  intently. 
A  sudden  joy  leaped  to  his  countenance.  He  gave 
a  glad  cry. 

"Yes,  my  child,"  he  said  to  Marjorie,  "Jesus  can 
open  your  eyes." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  I  am  so  glad!'"  said  the 
blind  child,  throwing  her  arms  around  Allan's 
neck. 

"It  is  only  a  cataract,  I  am  sure,"  said  Allan,  an- 
swering- Grace's  wondering  look.  "There  is  an 
opacity  of  the  crystalline  lens,  but  I  am  sure  the 
eye  and  optic  nerve  are  all  right.  An  operation 
will  fully  restore  her  sight." 

"Can  Marjorie  be  cured?"  asked  the  mother 
eagerly. 

"Has  a  physician  ever  examined  her  eyes?" 
asked  Allan,  anxious  to  make  no  mistake,  and 
dreading  lest  he  had  inspired  false  hopes. 

"No,"  said  the  poor  mother;  "we  all  thought  she 
was  hopelessly  blind." 

"Not  at  all,"  answered  Allan.  "It  is  only  a  cat- 
aract. I  will  telegraph  to  Des  Moines  to-night  for 
Dr.  Reuff,  the  eye  specialist.  It  will  be  a  simple 
operation.  The  doctor  can  be  here  to-morrow 
afternoon." 

Before  leaving  Allan  knelt  on  the  rough  pine 
floor  and  prayed.  It  was  not  the  usual  kind  of 
praying,  Grace  thought.  He  simply  talked  to  God, 
as  a  man  talks  to  his  friend.  He  asked  the  Pres- 
ence which  seemed  to  fill  the  lowly  hut,  to  bless 
the  father  and  mother,  and  open  the  eyes  of  the 
child. 

was  only  a  sentence  or  two,  but  long  after 


66  THE   VICTORY  OF 

he  left  there  was  a  reverent  hush  on  both  mother 
and  child. 

"Was  God  here?"  asked  Marjorie,  some  time 
later. 

"He  was,"  answered  the  mother  simply. 

The  next  afternoon  Dr.  Reuff  came,  and  Allan 
took  him  to  the  Steen  cottage.  Miss  Markley 
also  accompanied  him. 

With  new  hope  in  her  heart  the  mother  had 
mopped  the  floor,  blackened  the  stove,  put  up  fresh 
curtains  at  the  windows,  and  with  a  woman's  deft 
touch  had  transformed  the  hut. 

After  a  careful  examination,  in  which  he  cor- 
roborated Allan's  diagnosis,  Dr.  Reuff  performed 
skillfully  the  delicate  operation.  A  cataract  was 
removed  from  both  eyes,  and  little  Marjorie  was 
able  to  see  her  mother's  face  and  God's  beautiful 
world.  Only  one  glad,  rapturous,  wondering  look 
was  permitted  that  day,  and  then  the  eyes  were 
bandaged  up  again. 

A  few  days  later,  on  Saturday  afternoon,  Allan 
called  at  the  home.  Marjorie  met  him  at  the  door 
with  a  cry  of  joy. 

"Oh,  papa!"  she  shouted,  bringing  him  in  front 
of  the  big,  burly  Englishman.  "Oh,  papa,  here  is 
the  man  who  asked  Jesus  to  cure  me!" 

It  was  the  first  time  Allan  had  ever  met  Mr. 
Steen. 

"How  are  you!"  he  exclaimed  heartily.  "Little 
Marjorie  can  now  see  what  a  fine,  big  father  she 
has." 

"There's  not  much  to  see  in  me,"  groaned  the 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  67 

poor  fellow,  and  Allan  could  see  "remorse"  writ- 
ten on  his  dejected  face. 

Allan  at  once  understood. 

"I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  him,"  said 
Mrs.  Steen,  coming  forward.  "Yesterday,  when  I 
took  the  bandages  off  and  he  saw  Marjorie  could 
see,  he  was  so  glad  he  cried.  After  a  while  he  be- 
came melancholy  and  last  night  he  hardly  slept  all 
night.  He  won't  eat,  and  he  hasn't  hardly  been 
out  of  the  house  all  day." 

"Mr.  Steen,"  said  Allan,  with  a  sudden  inspira- 
tion, "come  out  to  church  to-morrow  night.  We 
begin  our  Gospel  meetings.  Come  out  and  start 
life  afresh  for  the  sake  of  Marjorie." 

"By  God's  help,  I  will!"  answered  the  English- 
man, as  he  grasped  Allan's  outstretched  hand. 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  as  Allan's  eye  met  his 
in  the  mutual  confidence  of  man  toward  man  the 
minister  said: 

"Mr.  Steen,  you  can  make  a  man  of  yourself  yet. 
It  is  in  you.  I  will  look  for  you  at  church  to-mor- 
row night." 

"I'll  be  there,"  said  Steen,  and  he  kept  his  word. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  BEGINNINGS   OF  OPPOSITION. 

"Mary,  we  had  an  exciting  time  at  our  meeting 
last  night,"  said  Deacon  Stanford  to  his  wife  one 
morning,  not  long  after  the  day  of  his  brother's 
public  sale. 

"Tell  me  about  it,  Samuel,"  said  Mrs.  Stanford. 
She  was  one  of  those  whole-souled,  elderly  ladies, 
who,  through  their  practical  ways  and  devout  spir- 
its, help  much  to  brighten  and  improve  the  world, 
though  in  a  quiet,  and  often  unappreciated,  way. 

She  shared  with  her  husband  an  ardent  affection 
for  Allan,  and  he  often  dropped  in  to  take  supper 
with  them. 

"We  have  turned  Markley  down  at  last,"  said 
her  husband,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "but  I  am 
afraid  he  will  make  trouble  for  Mr.  Rutledge.  He 
has  always  ruled  our  church  before." 

The  meeting  Deacon  Stanford  referred  to  was  a 
full  meeting  of  all  the  officers  of  the  Wellington 
Church,  called  by  Allan  to  consider  a  "Forward 
Movement."  At  this  meeting  Allan  proposed  a 
series  of  Gospel  meetings,  a  thing  unheard  of  be- 
fore in  the  church  for  a  score  of  years. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  Samuel,"  repeated  Mrs. 
Stanford,  sitting  down. 

63 


THE  VICTOR  Y  OF  ALLAN  R UT LEDGE     69 

The  Deacon  began:  "Well,  we  met  at  the  church 
last  night,  as  you  know,  and  every  officer  was  pres- 
ent. They  seemed  to  surmise  something  import- 
ant was  going  to  happen.  Mr.  Rutledge  called  on 
me  for  a  word  of  prayer,  and  then  he  explained 
the  'Forward  Movement,'  as  he  called  it,  and 
wanted  to  know  if  the  officers  were  in  favor  of  a 
series  of  Gospel  meetings. 

"Elder  Markley  was  on  his  feet  the  moment  Mr. 
Rutledge  got  through.  'I  don't  think,  sir,'  he 
said,  'that  we  need  a  'Forward  Movement'  (there 
was  a  sneer  in  his  voice  as  he  said  it).  We  have 
gone  too  far  forward  now.  Our  church  is  being 
turned  into  a  regular  Salvation  Army.' 

"  'Ought  not  the  church  to  seek  to  bring  salva- 
tion to  men,  since  Christ  died  to  make  salvation 
possible  for  all?'  said  our  pastor,  and  I  saw  a 
gleam  in  his  eye  like  fire.  'If  the  whole  Church 
became  an  army  of  salvation,  would  not  the  world 
soon  be  saved?' 

"  'You  are  bringing  too  many  fads  into  the 
church,  Mr.  Rutledge,'  Markley  answered  gruffly. 

"  'I  confess,'  said  he,  'I  do  believe  in  new  meth- 
ods in  our  church  work  if  they  are  needed.  I  have 
been  endeavoring  to  introduce  effective  ways  of 
accomplishing  things  for  God.' 

"  'That's  just  the  trouble,'  argued  Markley,  and 
we  could  all  see  he  was  getting  angry.  'None  of 
us  feel  at  home  in  the  church  any  more.  You 
have  made  more  changes  in  six  months  than  Dr. 
Anning  made  in  sixteen  years.' 

"'Mr.  Markley,'  answered  Mr.  Rutledge  and  I 
**could  see  he  was  holding  himself  in  restraint,  'I 


70  THE   VICTORY  OF 

noticed  in  your  factory  the  other  day  some  fine 
new  lathes  you  have  recently  installed.  You  be- 
lieve in  keeping  up  with  the  times  in  the  factory, 
but  you  think  it  is  all  right  for  God's  church  to 
become  a  back  number.' 

"  'Religion  and  business  are  two  different  things,' 
snapped  out  Markley. 

:'  'I  notice  some  men,'  said  our  pastor,  in  the 
quiet,  impressive  way  that  he  uses  sometimes,  'I 
notice  some  men  who  seem  to  think  so.  I  believe, 
however,  that  the  world  would  have  more  confi- 
dence in  the  honesty  of  such  men  if  they  would 
put  a  little  more  religion  into  their  business  life, 
and  a  little  more  business  into  their  religious  life.' 

"  'That's  right,'  chimed  in  Dr.  Lucas.  You  know 
he  is  a  warm  friend  to  Mr.  Rutledge.  Before 
Markley  could  say  any  more  our  pastor  spoke  up : 
'We  are  all  officers  of  the  church.  Mr.  Markley 
has  given  us  his  opinion.  What  do  the  rest  of  you 
think.?' 

"  'I  am  against  any  changes  in  our  old  way  of  do- 
ing things,'  wheezed  out  old  Abe  Daniels.  It  was 
the  first  church  meeting  he  had  attended  in  years. 
Old  Abe  is  a  good  man,  but  he  does  just  what 
Markley  says  and  always  has  done  so. 

"  'I'm  heartily  in  favor  of  such  meetings  as  our 
pastor  proposes,'  said  I,  getting  on  my  feet.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  Markley  glare  at  me.  It  was 
the  first  time  I  ever  crossed  him  in  a  church  meet- 
ing. Dr.  Anning  was  always  so  eager  for  the 
peace  and  harmony  of  the  church  that  I  often  had 
to  bite  my  tongue  to  keep  still,  but  I  didn't  want 
to  offend  good,  old  Dr.  Anning.  This  time  I  knew 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  71 

I  was  right,  and  I  went  ahead  and  had  my  say. 
'Yes/  says  I,  'we  need  such  meetings.  Our  young 
people  need  them.  The  time  is  ripe.  I  am  sure 
they  will  be  a  success.' 

"  'So  am  I,'  said  one  after  the  other,  until  it  was 
evident  every  man  was  with  our  pastor  except 
Markley  and  old  Abe.  Markley  looked  as  if  he 
had  suddenly  sat  down  on  an  icy  sidewalk. 

"  'Someone  make  a  motion/  said  Mr.  Rutledge. 

"  'I  move  we  have  special  Gospel  meetings,  to  be 
arranged  for  at  once  by  our  pastor/  said  I. 

"  'I  second  the  motion/  quickly  responded  Dr. 
Lucas. 

"  'All  in  favor  say  'Aye/  said  our  pastor,  and  a 
chorus  of  hearty  'ayes'  was  heard.  'Those  of  a 
contrary  opinion  say  'No/  he  went  on.  Markley 
and  Old  Abe  eyed  each  other,  but  they  knew  it 
was  hopeless  to  object,  and  they  were  silent. 

"I  could  see  Elder  Markley  took  it  hard;  but,, 
Mary,  that  was  the  best  meeting  the  officers  of  the 
Wellington  Church  have  had  in  twenty  years. 
We'll  see  a  big  change  in  Wellington  soon." 

After  getting  his  church  officers  behind  him,  as 
Deacon  Stanford  related  to  his  wife,  Allan  went 
to  work  with  energy,  getting  ready  for  the  Gospel 
meetings. 

Frederick  Markley,  much  to  his  relief,  refused 
to  lead  the  singing,  and  a  trained  chorus  leader, 
Professor  Tilley,  of  Chicago,  an  old  friend  of 
Allan's,  was  engaged.  Allan  decided  to  preach 
himself  during  the  two  weeks  of  special  services. 
He  got  out  a  huge  quantity  of  handbills,  which 
read  as  follows: 


72  THE   VICTORY  OP 

"A  Fight 

will  begin  against  Unbelief,   Ungodliness, 
and  every  form  of  evil  at  the 

Wellington  Church, 
next  Sabbath  evening,  and  continue  for 

two  weeks. 

Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  will  preach  every 
evening.  Professor  Tilley  and  an  evan- 
gelistic chorus  of  fifty  voices  will  lead  the 
music  of  the  campaign." 

These  bills  he  distributed  far  and  wide  in  and 
around  Wellington.  He  was  distributing  some  of 
these  very  bills  himself  the  day  he  met  Grace 
Markley  at  the  Antol  cottage.  He  intrusted  a 
number  of  the  bills  to  Mr.  McGregor,  foreman  in 
the  paint  shop  of  Markley's  factory  to  be  given  out 
to  all  the  men.  McGregor  engaged  the  Irishman, 
Pat  McGinnis,  to  go  around  the  shop  one  evening, 
just  before  quitting  time,  and  hand  a  bill  to  every 
man.  Pat  described  his  work  as  an  advertising 
agent  to  Mrs.  McGinnis  that  evening  at  the  sup- 
per table. 

"Sarah,"  said  he,  after  he  had  buttered  a  big 
slice  of  bread  for  about  four  or  five  of  his  younger 
children  (Pat  had  an  Irish  family,  even  if  he  did 
iive  in  Iowa),  "I  had  a  foine  toime  this  evenin' 
a-helpin'  the  preacher." 

"Helping  the  preacher?"  echoed  his  spouse. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Pat,  "just  a  little  before  we  quit 
lo-night  the  foreman  says  to  me,  says  he,  'Pat, 
go  around  and  hand  out  these  bills.  Mr.  Rutledge 
wants  every  man  to  get  wan.'  I  tuk  the  bills  and 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  73 

read  wan,  and  it  said:  A  foight  agin  unbelafe  an' 
ungodliness/  or  something  like  that,  but  it  meant 
Mr.  Rutledge  was  going  to  preach  every  night  for 
two  weeks.  As  I  was  going  around  who  should  I 
meet  but  the  boss  himself,  old  Markley. 

"'What  are  you  doin',  Pat?'  says  he;  'what  are 
those  bills  about?' 

"  'It's  a  foight,'  said  I. 

"'A  foight?'  he  yelled;  'what  do  you  mane 
handin'  round  bills  for  a  foight,  ye  haythen?' 

"  'I'm  no  haythen/  says  I ;  'this  foight  is  agin  the 
devil/  and  I  handed  him  a  bill.  He  read  it  over 
and  looked  cross  as  Job's  turkey  and  said:  'That 
man  Rutledge  bates  the  divil/ 

"  'Shure,  we  all  know  he  does/  says  I  'an'  his 
intention  is  to  bate  him.' 

"'Does  what?'  said  he,  kind  o'  sharplike. 

"'Bate  the  divil/  said  I.  'What  the  divil  are 
you  talkin'  about?'  said  the  boss  in  a  rage. 
'Why/  says  I,  'ye  just  said  that  Mr.  Rutledge 
bate  the  divil,  and  I  said  that  he  intended  to 
do  it,  and  we  fellows  all  think  he's  good  and 
able  to,  glory  be  to  God/  'Pat/  said  he,  cooling 
down  a  little,  'they  tell  me  ivery  Irishman  loikes 
a  foight.  How  is  it?'  'I  have  a  friend  called 
Mike,  who  is  a  great  foighter/  says  I.  'Tell  me 
about  Mike/  said  the  boss,  for  he  loikes  me  Irish 
stories.  'It  was  loike  this'  said  I.  'In  the  Span- 
ish War  after  the  battle  of  Santiago,  Gineral 
Shafter  met  Mike  and  said,  says  he,  'Me  foine  fel- 
low, and  what  did  you  do  in  the  foight?"  "Do," 
said  Mike  "may  it  plase  your  Honor,  I  walked  up 
"bSuldly  to  a  Spaniard,  and  cut  off  his  feet."  "Cut 


74.  THE   VICTORY  OF 

off  his  feet?"  said  Gineral  Shafter;  "why  did  you 
not  cut  off  his  head?"  "Ah,  and  faith,  that  was 
off  already,"  said  Mike.' " 

"Pat  McGinnis,"  said  his  better  half  reprovingly, 
"you  shouldn't  tell  Mr.  Markley  such  Irish  stories 
at  all,  at  all." 

"Och,"  said  Pat,  "you  ought  to  have  heard  the 
boss  laugh.  It  put  him  in  good  humor  agin,  for 
he  said,  'Pat,  you're  all  right,'  and  walked  on,  and 
I  gave  a  bill  to  every  mother's  son  o'  the  men, 
and  I  asked  them  all  to  come  out  and  hear  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge,  and  they'll  come,"  added  Pat,  with  assur- 
ance. 

Mr.  Markley  was  amused  with  the  Irishman's 
joke,  but  he  went  home  with  bitter  feelings  against 
this  new,  upstart  preacher,  who  was  turning 
everything  upside  down  in  Wellington.  He  had 
just  seated  himself  in  a  comfortable  Morris  chair, 
in  his  luxurious  home,  when  Grace  came  in  after 
calling  at  Steen's  with  Mr.  Rutledge. 

"Oh,  papa,"  she  said,  as  she  came  forward  and 
kissed  him ;  "I  nearly  had  an  accident  this  after- 
noon. I  was  crossing  the  track  out  near  Steen's 
'shack'  and  I  did  not  hear  the  train,  and  was  al- 
most caught.  Had  it  not  been  that  Mr.  Rutledge 
pulled  me  back  I  don't  think  I  could  have  es- 
caped." 

"Rutledge,"  said  her  father;  "what  were  you  do- 
ing with  Rutledge  away  in  that  part  of  town?" 

"Oh,  Grace  thinks  Rutledge  is  the  only  man  in 
town,"  sneered  her  brother,  Frederick,  who  was 
reading  the  afternoon  paper  in  a  chair  in  front  of 
a  grate  fire. 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  75 

Paying  no  heed  to  her  brother's  sneer,  Grace 
answered  her  father:  "We  met  by  accident  in  the 
Antol  cottage,  and  I  was  taking  him  to  see  little 
blind  Marjorie." 

At  the  mention  of  Antol's  cottage  Frederick 
Markley  looked  around  suddenly.  Then,  throwing 
down  his  paper,  he  proceeded  to  leave  the  room. 

"Grace,"  said  her  father  severely,  "you  must 
stop  this  nonsense  of  running  around  among  those 
beggars.  That  drunken  Steen  is  a  disgrace  to 
Wellington.  You  can't  help  a  man  like  that." 

"I  never  see  him  at  all,"  she  answered;  "I  am 
trying  to  comfort  poor  Mrs.  Steen  and  little  Mar- 
jorie, and,  oh,  papa,  Mr.  Rutledge  says  Marjorie's 
eyes  can  be  cured  by  an  operation  and  she  will  be 
able  to  see.  Dr.  Reuff  is  coming  from  Des  Moines 
to-morrow." 

"Pshaw,"  said  her  father  in  a  tone  of  disgust; 
"another  wild  notion  of  the  fellow's.  I  sometimes 
think  Rutledge  is  half-crazy." 

"Papa,"  said  his  daughter  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
"how  can  you  talk  so  about  our  minister?  He 
spends  his  whole  time  in  trying  to  do  good." 

"Preachers  are  a  nuisance,  anyway,"  he  an- 
swered with  a  sneer,  "especially  when  they  set  out 
to  mind  everybody's  business  except  their  own." 

"The  people  of  Wellington  don't  think  so,"  said 
Grace  with  dignity.  "Everyone  I  meet  speaks  in 
the  highest  terms  of  Mr.  Rutledge  and  his  minis- 
try." 

"Some  are  already  sick  and  tired  of  him,"  re- 
sj*onded  Markley. 


76     THE  VICTOR Y  OF  ALLAN  R  UT LEDGE 

"Who  are  they?"  inquired  the  girl  promptly. 
"I'm  one  of  them,"  said  her  father  fiercely,  and 
he  strode  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  REVIVAL. 

The  eventful  Sabbath  evening  had  arrived  on 
which  the  much  discussed  fight  between  faith  and 
unbelief  was  to  begin  at  the  Wellington  Church. 
A  vast  congregation  crowded  every  part  of  the 
capacious  auditorium.  Chairs  were  placed  in  the 
aisles,  and  these  also  were  quickly  filled.  The 
attendance  of  men  predominated  over  that  of 
women.  The  students  and  professors  of  Welling- 
ton College  were  there  in  force.  The  business  and 
professional  men  of  the  community  were  scattered 
among  the  audience.  The  workingmen  were  there 
almost  to  a  man.  Our  old  friends  from  the  paint 
shop  were  seated  well  up  in  front.  Foreman  Mc- 
Gregor, Luther  Schneider,  Louis  Antoine,  Pat  Mc- 
Ginnis  and  Jake  Borner  sat  together.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Antol  and  Frank  Antol  were  in  the  center 
of  the  church,  three  pews  from  the  front. 

To  the  surprise  of  all  Mr.  Steen,  perfectly  sober, 
arrived  early  and  made  his  way  to  a  front  seat. 
Elder  Markley  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  but  Mrs. 
Markley  sat  in  her  accustomed  place.  Grace 
Markley  was  in  the  chorus,  which  occupied  a  tem- 
porary platform  back  of  the  pulpit.  The  chorus 
consisted  of  fifty  voices,  and  Professor  Tilley  had 

77 


78  THE   VICTORY  OF 

been  drilling  them  for  several  days.  The  chorus 
director  stood  on  the  front  of  the  platform  beside 
Allan,  as  the  great  congregation  rose  and  joined 
in  singing,  with  the  utmost  enthusiasm,  the  open- 
ing hymn : 

"Onward,  Christian  soldiers,  marching  as  to  war, 
With  the  cross  of  Jesus  going  on  before." 

As  Allan  listened  to  the  singing  and  gazed  into 
the  eager,  upturned  faces  before  him,  he  had  no 
doubt  of  the  issue  of  the  fight.  It  was  already  a 
victory. 

Just  before  Allan  preached  a  popular  hymn  was 
sung,  with  this  refrain: 

"This  is  the  message  that  I  bring, 

A  message  angels  fain  would  sing; 

'Oh,  be  ye  reconciled/    Thus  saith  my  Lord  and 

King, 
'Oh,  be  ye  reconciled  to  God.'  " 

As  this  noble  chorus  rose  from  the  vast  throng 
Allan  felt  elated  and  glad.  Never  before  did  he 
so  fully  realize  the  grandeur  of  a  preacher's  voca- 
tion, and  the  pre-eminent  importance  of  the  mes- 
sage which  every  ambassador  of  Christ  delivers  to 
men. 

As  the  last  refrain  died  away  in  silence  the  au- 
dience sat  in  expectancy.  Not  a  sound  was  heard. 
Every  eye  was  fastened  on  the  tall,  athletic  young 
man,  who  stepped  to  the  front  of  the  platform  and 
faced  the  people.  The  flush  of  health  was  on  his 


rALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  79 

cheek;  his  eyes  sparkled  with  animation;  every 
power  of  his  body  and  mind  seemed  in  perfect 
self-control.  He  was  the  living  picture  of  a  man. 
"If  thou"  knowest  the  gift  of  God."  His  voice 
rang  out,  clear  and  true,  as  he  announced  his  text. 
"These  words  are  found  in  the  conversation  be- 
tween Jesus  and  the  woman  at  the  well."  With  a 
few  graphic  touches  Allan  pictured  this  historic 
scene.  Then  he  went  on:  "Jesus  came  not  to  con- 
demn the  world,  but  that  the  world  through  him 
might  be  saved.  Wherever  he  went  the  Son  of 
Man  had  one  cry  for  earth's  sons  and  daughters: 

"  'Come    home,    come    home,    ye    who    are    weary, 

come  home. 

Earnestly,  tenderly,  Jesus  is  calling, 
Calling,  O  sinner,  come  home.' " 

Allan's  voice  rang  out  like  a  trumpet. 

"If  you  knew  the  gift  of  God,  my  people,  you 
would  then  know  the  true  value  of  men  and 
women,  no  matter  who  they  are.  That  black  soot 
which  defiles  the  snow  is  carbon,  out  of  which,  in 
the  alchemy  of  nature,  God  makes  the  beauteous, 
lustrous  diamonds.  So  these  blots  on  humanity, 
whom  we  call  the  low  and  degraded,  are  after  all 
human  souls  out  of  which,  in  the  alchemy  of  grace, 
Christ  can  make  his  rarest  jewels. 

"This  poor  woman  was  of  no  account  in  Sa- 
maria, but  Christ  saw  the  human  soul  within, 
capable  of  restoration  and  of  becoming  a  pure 
gem  to  sparkle  in  his  crown  forever.  If  you  only 
knew  the  gift  of  God,  you  would  appreciate  what 
Christ  means  to  the  world.  Alas!"  he  cried, 


80  THE   VICTORY  OF. 

"alas,  how  few  even  in  his  church  fully  appreciate 
the  Christ!  He  can  take  away  sin  and  sorrow, 
and  fear.  He  can  give  to  all  men  confidence,  hope 
and  life.  He  can  transform  every  soul  and  trans- 
figure every  home." 

Grace  was  watching  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Antol.  Their 
eyes  never  left  Allan's  face.  They  drank  in  every 
word.  As  Allan  told  of  Christ's  power  to  satisfy 
the  soul  and  heal  its  sorrows,  tears  streamed 
down  their  cheeks.  Grace  knew  that  hereafter  the 
Antol  cottage  would  have  a  new  peace  and  hope. 

"If  you  only  knew  the  gift  of  God,"  again  cried 
the  preacher,  "and  what  this  Water  of  Life  means 
to  the  parched  and  thirsty  men  and  women  around 
you,  O  Christians,  you  could  find  no  rest  in  your 
souls  until  you  told  everywhere  the  story  of  Jesus 
and  his  love. 

"It  was  at  Fredericksburg,  after  a  bloody  bat- 
tle. Hundreds  of  Union  soldiers  lay  wounded  on 
the  field.  All  night  and  all  next  day  the  space 
was  swept  by  artillery  from  both  armies  but  no 
one  could  venture  to  the  relief  of  the  dying  men. 
All  that  time  agonizing  cries  went  up  from  the 
field  for  water,  but  men  cried  in  vain.  At  last,  a 
brave  fellow  in  gray  could  endure  the  piteous  cries 
no  longer.  'General,'  said  Richard  Kirkland  to  his 
commander,  'I  can't  stand  it.  Those  poor  fellows 
out  there  have  been  crying  for  water  all  night  and 
all  day,  and  I  can't  bear  it  any  longer.  I  want  to 
carry  out  water  over  the  battlefield.'  The  General 
assured  him  it  would  mean  instant  death  to  expose 
himself  on  the  field,  but  the  young  soldier  begged 
so  piteously  that  the  General  gave  him  leave. 


81 

"Provided  with  a  supply  of  water,  the  brave  sol- 
dier stepped  over  the  rampart  and  started  on  his 
Christlike  mission.  Amid  flying  bullets  and  burst- 
ing shells  he  made  his  way  to  the  nearest  sufferer, 
and  gently  raised  his  head  to  give  him  the  cool- 
ing drink.  At  once  the  Union  soldiers  understood 
his  errand  of  mercy  and  for  one  hour  and  a  half 
every  gun  was  stilled,  and  Richard  Kirkland  went 
over  that  battlefield  as  an  angel  of  mercy.  He 
moistened  parched  lips,  straightened  cramped 
limbs,  covered  the  dying  with  army  coats,  tender- 
ly as  a  mother  would  cover  her  child. 

"Will  the  soldier  in  gray  brave  death  to  give  the 
water  of  earth  to  wounded  men  on  the  field  of 
Fredericksburg,  but  no  soldier  of  Christ  will  vol- 
unteer to  go  out  on  the  battlefield  of  life  and  mois- 
ten parched  lips  with  the  Water  of  Life?  Forbid 
it,  Almighty  God!" 

Grace,  from  her  vantage  point  in  the  chorus, 
looked  at  the  audience.  An  unseen  Presence 
seemed  to  brood  over  the  listening  throng.  She 
saw  Mr.  Steen  listen  with  intent  gaze,  as  Allan 
told  the  story  of  the  brave  Richard  Kirkland.  The 
men  from  her  father's  factory  were  spellbound, 
hanging  on  the  very  lips  of  the  preacher. 

At  the  close  of  his  sermon  Allan  made  an  un- 
expected appeal.  It  was  like  a  flank  attack  and  its 
success  was  complete.  He  had  arranged  with 
Grace  Markley  to  bring  little  Marjorie  Steen  to 
the  service.  She  sat  with  Grace,  concealed  among 
the  chorus,  until  the  close  of  the  sermon. 

Before  concluding,  Allan  spoke  of  Christ  as  the 
Light  of  the  world,  as  well  as  the  Water  of  Life. 


82  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"As  the  glorious  sun  gives  our  earth  light  and 
warmth,"  he  proclaimed,  "so  the  Saviour  of  men 
enlightens  all  who  come  to  him.  Many  of  you 
have  been  stumbling  in  darkness.  Is  it  not  so?" 
he  asked  in  tender  tones. 

"Follow  Christ,"  he  cried,  "and  your  darkness 
is  gone.  'He  that  followeth  me,'  says  Jesus,  'shall 
not  walk  in  darkness,  but  shall  have  the  Light  of 
Life/  " 

He  then  told  briefly  the  touching  story  of  Mar- 
jorie  Steen,  and  her  recovery  from  her  blindness. 
The  audience  was  deeply  moved  when  Allan  fin- 
ished by  saying:  "Marjorie  is  here  to-night  to  bear 
witness  to  Jesus.  She  will  sing  to  us  an  invitation 
hymn." 

Led  by  Grace  Markley,  the  little  girl  came  for- 
ward. She  was  dressed  in  white,  even  to  her  lit- 
tle shoes.  Her  eyes  blinked  in  astonishment  at 
the  great  crowd,  but,  assisted  by  Grace,  she  began 
the  hymn: 

"The  whole  world  was  lost  in  darkness  and  sin, 

The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus; 
Like  sunshine  at  noonday  his  glory  shone  in, 

The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus." 

As  she  sang  the  chorus,  her  voice  rose  in  beau- 
tiful cadences  until  it  filled  the  church.  Not  a 
word  was  lost.  Marjorie  had  a  remarkable  voice 
for  a  child,  as  Grace  Markley  had  soon  discerned. 
It  was  a  sweet,  clear,  birdlike,  and  yet  rich  and 
strong. 

It  was  with  strange  and  new  emotions  that  the 


'ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  83 

audience  listened  to  this  sweet  singer,  lately  in 
darkness  and  now  rejoicing  in  the  wonders  of  the 
light: 

"Oh,  come  to  the  Light,  'tis  shining  for  thee; 
How  sweetly  the  light  has  dawned  upon  me. 
Once  I  was  blind,  but  now  I  can  see, 
The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus." 

When  she  reached  the  third  verse  of  the  hymn 
Marjorie  had  full  confidence  in  herself.  She  sang 
without  effort,  like  a  bird.  She  forgot  the  au- 
dience. She  was  thinking  of  her  joy  in  finding 
light,  and  of  Jesus,  whom,  above  all  others,  she 
thanked  for  the  new  found  joy  of  seeing.  Her 
singing  melted  hearts,  like  water,  as  she  sang: 

"Ye   dwellers   in  darkness,   with   sin-blinded   eyes, 

The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus; 
Go  wash  at  his  bidding,  and  light  will  arise, 

The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus." 

And  once  more  the  chorus  rose: 

"Oh,  come  to  the  Light;  'tis  shining  for  thee; 
How  sweetly  the  Light  has  dawned  upon  me. 
Once  I  was  blind,  but  now  I  can  see, 
The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus." 

Higher  and  higher  rose  the  song  waves  of  mel- 
ody, until  they  seemed  to  reach  a  sunny  shore  and 
break. 

Allan    glanced    at    Mr.    Steen.     His    head    was 


84  THE   VICTORY  OF, 

bowed  in  his  hands.  His  frame  was  quivering 
with  his  intense  emotion.  There  were  few  dry 
eyes  in  the  church. 

"The  Light  of  the  world  is  Jesus." 

Tenderly  the  sweet  voice  of  Marjorie  lingered  on 
the  closing  word. 

As  Grace  Markley  led  her  back  among  the 
chorus,  Allan  rose,  and  bowed  his  head  in  silent 
prayer.  All  seemed  to  be  praying  in  their  hearts. 

"Our  Father,"  Allan  began,  "help  us  to-night. 
jWe  thank  thee  that'  Marjorie  can  see,  but,  oh, 
there  are  many  here  who  cannot  see  the  Light 
of  the  world.  Help  them  to  come  to  Him  to-night. 
Help  them  to  give  up  every  sin  and  break  with 
the  past  and  start  life  afresh  with  Jesus.  O  Christ 
of  God,  we  plead  for  the  Water  of  Life  to-night." 

That  was  all,  but  it  was  enough.  The  Water 
of  Life  was  flowing  abundantly,  and  the  thirst  of 
weary  years  was  being  quenched.  The  chorus  be- 
gan to  repeat  softly  the  refrain : 

"Oh,  come  to  the  Light,  'tis  shinng  for  thee." 

And  they  came. 

The  first  man  to  come  forward  and  grasp  Allan's 
hand,  in  token  of  a  new  start  in  life,  was  Mr. 
Steen.  With  tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks,  the 
big  Englishman  rose  deliberately  to  his  feet  and 
walked  to  where  Allan  was  standing  in  front  of  the 
platform.  Then  the  Bohemian  infidel,  Louis  An- 
toine,  came  forward.  He  was  followed  by  the 


RUT  LEDGE  ss 

Irishman,  Pat  McGinnis,  by;  Luther  Schneider,  the 
German,  by  Jake  Borner,  and  a  number  of  others 
from  the  factory. 

Young  men  began  to  stream  up  the  aisles. 
Young  women  came  also.  From  all  parts  of  the 
church,  and  from  the  chorus  they  came.  Old  and 
young,  rich  and  poor,  American  and  foreigner,  the 
banker  and  the  factory  hand,  the  lawyer  and  the 
school  girl,  the  college  student  and  the  farmer, 
the  business  man  and  his  clerks,  all  became  one  in 
Christ,  as  they  dedicated  their  lives  anew  in  the 
light  of  the  vision  of  their  Saviour.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Antol  and  Frank  came  among  the  rest.  Over  one 
hundred  and  fifty  crowded  around  the  platform, 
and  filled  the  entire  vacant  space  in  the  front  of 
the  church. 

At  a  sign  from  Allan  all  bowed  in  prayer,  and 
in  the  hush  that  followed  Allan  said  simply:  "O 
God,  we  thank  thee  for  what  we  have  seen  and 
heard." 

The  chorus,  with  the  jubilant  note  of  victory  in 
their  song,  began : 

"O  happy  day,  that  fixed  my  choice 
On  thee,  my  Saviour  and  my  God, 

Well  may  this  glowing  heart  rejoice 
And  tell  its  raptures  all  abroad." 

Grace  Markley  greeted  Allan  for  a  moment  as 
he  passed  out,  after  the  service  had  ended.  "You 
have  won  a  great  victory,  Mr.  Rutledge,"  she  said. 
-  "It  was  not  mine,"  he  answered.  "It  was 
Christ's  victory." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FREDERICK  MARKLEY  CALLS  ON  MABEL) 
GRAYSON. 

"Come  in,  Cousin  Frederick,  I  did  not  know  you 
were  in  Des  Moines." 

"I  came  up  for  a  few  days  on  business,  and,  as 
I  heard  you  had  returned  from  the  South  earlier 
than  you  expected  I  could  not  help  calling  to  see 
you." 

Frederick  Markley  was  standing  at  the  door  of 
Judge  Grayson's  stately  mansion  as  he  told  this 
lie  to  Mabel  Grayson.  He  had  come  to  Des 
Moines  to  escape  the  Gospel  meetings.  After 
spending  a  few  days  among  a  fast  set  of  his  ac- 
quaintance in  the  capitol  city  of  Iowa,  he  had 
merely  called  on  his  cousin  for  a  diversion. 

As  young  Markley  looked  at  the  Judge's  fair 
daughter  that  morning,  she  was  radiant  with 
health  and  beauty.  Blossoming  into  a  most  beau- 
tiful womanhood,  it  was  no  wonder  her  smile  of 
welcome  delighted  such  a  man  as  Frederick  Mark- 
ley.  He  entered  the  home  with  a  glad  heart  and 
Mabel  took  his  hat  and  coat. 

"Tell  me  about  the  wonderful  meetings  you  are 
having  in  Wellington,"  began  Mabel,  as  soon  as 
they  were  seated  in  the  parlor.  "I  had  a  letter 
from  Grace  to-day  and  she  says  she  never  saw 
anything  like  them." 

S6 


THE  VICTOR  Y  OF  ALLAN  R  UT 'LEDGE     87 

"I  left  Wellington  last  Friday,"  said  Markley, 
with  the  suspicion  of  a  frown,  "and  I  do  not  know 
what  has  been  going  on  at  home  the  past  few 
days." 

"Grace  says  that  Mr.  Rutledge  has  become  a 
wonderful  evangelist,"  went  on  Mabel,  with  en- 
thusiasm. "I  should  have  thought  that  you  could 
not  be  spared  from  the  choir  during  the  special 
meetings." 

"Oh,  Rutledge  has  hired  a  fellow  from  Chicago 
to  lead  a  big  chorus  for  his  meetings.  He  is  turn- 
ing everything  upside  down,  to  the  disgust  of  my 
father." 

Markley  wanted  to  make  a  good  impression  on 
his  cousin  that  morning,  but  the  mention  of  Allan 
Rutledge's  name  was  like  a  spark  falling  into  gun- 
powder, and  he  could  not  help  flaring  up.  Mabel 
did  not  understand  his  mood,  but  she  was  anxious 
to  help  Mr.  Rutledge.  She  imagined  that  Freder- 
ick, like  many  sincere  Christians,  did  not  approve 
of  evangelistic  methods,  and  she  desired  to  assist 
in  the  work  at  Wellington  by  winning  him  over 
to  Allan's  program. 

Accordingly,  she  changed  the  conversation,  since 
she  saw  she  was  annoying  him,  and  they  chatted 
pleasantly  on  congenial  subjects.  As  he  was  leav- 
ing, Mabel  invited  him  to  come  back  to  dinner 
that  evening. 

"We  are  to  have  a  distinguished  guest  at  our 
dinner  party  to-night,"  she  said.  "William  Jen- 
nings Bryan  is  to  be  here.  He  lectures  to-night, 
3^)u  know,  at  the  Auditorium,  and  papa  is  to  intro- 
duce him.  Come  and  meet  Mr.  Bryan,"  she 


88  THE   VICTORY  OF 

urged,  "and  we  will  go  together  to  hear  his  lec- 
ture. I  came  back  from  the  South  to  be  here  on 
this  occasion,  so  as  to  meet  and  hear  him." 

Young  Markley  was  delighted  with  the  prospect 
of  meeting  the  famous  Bryan,  and  also  congratu- 
lated himself  on  the  reception  Mabel  had  given 
him. 

"By  Jove!"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  went  down 
the  steps  with  his  fair  cousin's  "Good-by"  ringing 
in  his  ears,  "Mabel  is  a  fine  girl.  She  gets  pret- 
tier every  day.  I'll  have  a  good  try  for  her  my- 
self." 

That  evening  Frederick  Markley  was  a  guest  at 
the  Judge's  home,  and  was  introduced  to  Mr. 
Bryan  and  some  of  the  most  prominent  men  of 
the  State,  who  had  come  to  Des  Moines  to  hear 
the  far-famed  Nebraskan  speak,  and  had  been  in- 
vited to  meet  him  at  Judge  Grayson's  dinner  party. 

Mr.  Bryan  delighted  the  company  with  his  gen- 
ial manners  and  lively  conversation.  After  a  while 
the  talk  drifted  to  religious  subjects,  and  Mabel 
was  much  interested  in  Mr.  Bryan's  quaint  way  of 
setting  forth  his  belief  in  God. 

"I  am  a  farmer  now,  you  know,  Judge  Gray- 
son,"  said  the  great  political  leader,  "and  I  get  a 
great  many  lessons  out  on  my  farm.  I  found  a 
hen's  egg  the  other  day  and  I  began  to  reason 
about  it.  I  said  to  myself,  "Inside  this  egg  is  an 
invisible  something  that  can  make  within  the  shell 
a  little  chick,  with  legs,  feathers  and  a  complete 
body.  Surely  to  explain  that  egg  I  need  a  God." 

After  the  dinner  the  company  repaired  to  the 
large  Auditorium,  of  which  Des  Moines  is  justly 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  89 

proud,  where  Mr.   Bryan   delivered  his  celebrated 
lecture,  "The  Prince  of  Peace." 

The  immense  space  of  the  Auditorium  was 
thronged  when  they  arrived.  The  enthusiastic  au- 
dience was  composed  of  the  cream  of  all  Iowa,  for 
many  had  come  long  distances  to  be  present.  It 
was  a  thrilling  sight  to  look  upon  the  cosmopoli- 
tan audience,  that  represented  a  new  race  in  the 
world,  "time's  noblest  offspring,  and  the  last." 
Judge  Grayson  introduced  the  speaker  of  the  even- 
ing in  a  few  well  chosen  words,  referring  to  Mr. 
Bryan  as  "the  most  distinguished  private  citizen 
in  America." 

The  lecture  was  an  eloquent  discourse  on  re- 
ligion, and  a  noble  tribute  to  Christ,  whom  he 
called  the  "Prince  of  Peace." 

Mabel  sat  beside  young  Markley  in  one  of  the 
boxes.  Her  companion  did  not  seem  to  take  much 
interest  in  the  lecture,  but  Mabel  was  thrilled  as 
,she  heard  one  of  America's  foremost  men  declare 
so  fervently  his  faith  in  Christ. 

Again  and  again  the  Auditorium  rang  with  ap- 
plause. Some  of  his  humorous  sallies  called  forth 
laughter.  He  declared  that  if  anyone  believed  he 
had  sprung  from  the  monkey,  he  was  welcome  to 
such  a  belief,  "only,"  said  the  orator,  "don't  con- 
nect me  with  your  family  tree." 
.  For  the  most  part  it  was  a  serious  discourse,  al- 
most a  sermon;  but  he  held  the  undivided  atten- 
tion of  the  vast  throng  for  nearly  two  hours. 
With  the  earnestness  of  a  prophet,  the  peerless 
orator,  a  product  of  the  Middle  West,  closed  with 

ese  words: 


90  THE   VICTORY  OF. 

"Our  faith  should  be  even  stronger  than  the 
faith  of  those  who  lived  two  thousand  years  ago, 
for  we  see  our  religion  spreading  and  supplanting 
the  philosophies  and  creeds  of  the  Orient.  As  the 
Christian  grows  older  he  appreciates  more  and 
more  the  completeness  with  which  Christ  fills  the 
requirements  of  the  heart,  and,  grateful  for  the 
peace  which  he  enjoys,  and  for  the  strength  which 
he  has  received,  he  repeats  the  words  of  the  great 
scholar,  Sir  William  Jones: 

"  'Before  thy  mystic  altar,  heavenly  Truth, 

I  kneel  in  manhood  as  I  knelt  in  youth. 

Thus  let  me  kneel,  till  this  dull  form  decay, 

And  life's  last  shade  be  brightened  with  thy  ray.' " 

When  the  speaker  had  ceased  there  was  a  mo- 
mentary silence.  Then  the  storm  broke.  The 
entire  audience  rose  to  their  feet.  They  cheered 
and  waved  their  handkerchiefs  in  enthusiastic  ap- 
proval, for  the  new  American  race  was  in  pro- 
foundest  sympathy  with  their  orator  in  his  highest 
tributes  to  the  Prince  of  Peace.  Mr.  Bryan  grace- 
fully bowed  his  acknowledgements  and  the  meet- 
ing closed. 

Young  Markley  escorted  Mabel  Grayson  to  her 
home,  and  promised  to  call  again  on  the  following 
afternoon. 

Next  day  he  found  Mabel  awaiting  him.  She 
had  received  another  letter  from  Grace  Markley, 
telling  of  the  continued  success  of  the  meetings, 
and  of  the  large  number  who  had  already  accepted 
the  faith.  "I  only  wish  Frederick  was  here," 


rALLAN  RUTLEDGE  91 

wrote  'Grace.  "I  am  sure  the  meetings  would  help 
him.  As  he  is  in  Des  Moines,  and  you  will  prob- 
ably see  him,  tell  him  to  hurry  home.  He  is  miss- 
ing- the  best  things  that  ever  came  to  Wellington. 
The  college,  even,  is  aroused  and  a  number  of  the 
students  have  decided  for  Christ."  Mabel  read 
this  part  of  the  letter  to  Markley,  and  urged  him 
to  return  home  at  once. 

"I  have  no  confidence  in  Rutledge,"  said  he,  at 
last.  "He  could  not  do  me  any  good." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Mabel,  "no  confidence  in 
your  minister?"  Her  voice  had  in  it  such  a  tone 
of  astonishment  that  Markley  smiled  at  what  he 
reckoned  her  simplicity. 

"Ministers  are  a  poor  set,  anyhow,"  he  went  on 
sneeringly. 

"How  you  talk,  Frederick  Markley,"  said  his 
cousin  reprovingly;  "you  know  better  than  that." 

Markley  was  trying  to  discredit  Mr.  Rutledge  in 
Mabel's  eyes  by  sneering  at  Allan's  profession,  but 
he  was  on  the  wrong  track,  as  he  quickly  found 
out. 

"Nobody  thinks  much  of  a  preacher  nowadays," 
he  went  on,  in  the  same  sneering  tone.  "Business 
men  have  no  use  for  them.  They  are  only  med- 
dlers where  they  are  not  nuisances." 

"Mr.  Markley,"  said  the  girl,  thoroughly; 
aroused,  "I  refuse  to  listen  to  such  language!" 

Markley  saw  he  had  gone  too  far  and  he  tried 
to  interrupt  her,  but  her  blood  was  stirred  and  she 
went  on  with  kindling  eye:  "Ministers  are  not 
v/^at  you  represent  them.  They  are  the  teachers 
of  religion  and  the  ambassadors  of  Christ.  The 


92  THE   VICTORY  OF 

ministers  of  Des  Moines  are  its  most  respected 
citizens.  Papa  thinks  more  of  a  good  minister 
than  he  does  of  men  in  any  other  kind  of  business 
or  profession.  The  ministry  is  the  noblest  calling 
on  earth.  The  greatest  men  in  history  were 
preachers.  What  would  our  world  be  without  its 
Wesleys,  Luthers,  Savonarolas  and  its  Pauls. 
These  men  were  all  preachers.  The  Lord  Jesus 
was  a  preacher,  and  you  heard  Mr.  Bryan  honor 
him  last  night  as  the  highest  of  men,  and  the  hope 
of  the  world.  I  am  ashamed  of  you!" 

Markley  was  confused.  He  had  never  seen  his 
cousin  so  indignant.  He  was  surprised  to  see  such 
spirit  in  her.  But  her  enthusiasm  lighted  her  eyes 
with  a  new  brilliancy  and  flushed  her  fair  cheeks 
with  added  loveliness.  Markley  was  lost  in  ad- 
miration for  her  beauty,  and  coveted  such  a  girl 
for  himself. 

He  quickly  regained  his  composure,  and  sought 
to  retrieve  himself.  "Yes,"  he  answered,  "I  am 
like  your  father.  I  think  a  good  minister  is  all 
right,  but  I  don't  call  Rutledge  a  good  minister." 

This  was  a  flank  movement  and  caught  Mabel  at 
a  disadvantage.  She  sought  at  first  to  defend  Mr. 
Rutledge. 

"I  never  heard  the  least  word  against  him,"  she 
answered.  "When  he  was  here  in  college  he  car- 
ried off  all  the  honors.  Papa  and  I  heard  his 
graduating  address,  and  papa  said  then  that  he 
was  a  young  man  with  remarkable  powers." 

"Well,"  said  Markley  insinuatingly,  "he  is  not 
turning  out  well  in  spite  of  all  this  talk  about  his 


'ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  93 

success  at  Wellington.  I  have  heard  my  father 
and  others  express  themselves/' 

"What's  wrong  with  him?"  demanded  Mabel. 

"He  runs  around  after  the  girls  too  much  to 
please  the  best  people  in  Wellington." 

This  was  a  master  stroke  of  young  Markley.  It 
was  even  a  better  thrust  than  he  knew. 

Mabel  had  been  receiving  letters  from  Allan  reg- 
ularly ever  since  they  had  renewed  acquaintance 
on  the  train,  when  Allan  was  on  his  way  to  Well- 
ington. It  is  true  the  letters  were  always  such 
as  she  could  have  read  to  her  father  without  em- 
barrassment. But,  some  way,  Allan  had  seemed 
to  belong  to  her,  and  the  hints  Grace  Markley 
often  gave  of  being  in  Allan's  society  had  troubled 
Mabel.  She  had  never  put  these  thoughts  into 
words,  but  there  was  a  sub-conscious  feeling  that 
Allan  had  no  right  to  spend  so  much  time  with 
Grace. 

If  anyone  had  accused  her  of  such  thoughts  she 
would  have  resented  the  insinuation  as  absurd,  but 
— the  feeling  was  there.  Markley's  pointed  re- 
mark found  an  open  place  in  Mabel's  armor.  The 
color  left  her  face.  She  stammered,  as  she  tried 
to  speak.  A  moment  before  she  was  like  a  Luther 
before  the  Diet  of  Worms,  defying  the  world. 
Now  she  was  like  a  wounded  bird,  seeking  for 
shelter. 

"W-h-a-a-t  girls?"  she  stammered  out  in  dismay. 

Young  Markley  saw  his  advantage,  and  he  de- 
termined to  push  it  to  the  uttermost.  He  was 
ab]£  to  do  this  more  effectively  because,  like 
Napoleon,  he  had  no  moral  code  to  bind  him. 


9*  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"He  has  had  two  or  three  sweethearts  in  Well- 
ington already,"  young  Markley  went  on,  in  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact tone,  apparently  not  noticing  the  girl's 
confusion.  "He  wins  their  affection  and  then 
throws  them  off.  He  has  started  in  lately  with 
Grace,  and  has  made  a  regular  fool  of  her,  but 
father  has  taken  Rutledge's  measure,  and  he  is  de- 
termined to  get  him  out  of  Wellington  just  as 
soon  as  he  can  without  too  much  scandal." 

Poor  Mabel !  This  fitted  in  with  her  own  sub- 
conscious reasoning  about  Grace  and  Allan,  and 
she  never  dreamed  that  Frederick  Markley  was 
inventing  a  base  slander.  But  if  Markley  thought 
he  was  going  to  have  a  freer  field  if  he  succeeded 
in  discrediting  the  minister  at  Wellington,  he  soon 
found  out  his  mistake. 

Mabel  lost  all  interest  in  the  conversation,  and 
soon  found  an  excuse  to  bow  him  out.  He  had 
desired  to  take  her  that  afternoon  for  a  visit  to  the 
State  Capitol  building,  and  he  had  anticipated  a 
delightful  climb  along  with  her  to  the  top  of  the 
lofty  dome,  but  Mabel  absolutely  refused  to  go,  or 
even  to  promise  to  go  at  another  time.  As  he  de- 
parted, he  felt  that  he  had  robbed  Rutledge  of  an 
admirer,  but  he  had  secured  nothing  for  himself 
in  doing  it. 

Left  alone  Mabel  hurried  to  her  own  room  and 
threw  herself  on  her  bed  in  tears. 

"Just  think  of  it,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  have 
been  writing  to  him  every  week,  and  he  seemed  so 
pleased  to  get  my  letters.  When  he  heard  I  was 
coming  North  last  week,  he  said  he  was  anxious 
to  see  me  again  in  Wellington.  Oh,  dear,  I  have 


'ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  95 

been  so  foolish,"  and  Mabel  gave  way  to  a  fresh 
burst  of  tears. 

After  a  while  she  grew  calmer.  She  recalled 
their  friendship  from  that  morning  when  he  grad- 
uated. She  thought  of  their  ride  together  on  the 
train.  She  tried  to  remember  his  letters.  He  had 
never  given  her  any  confidences.  She  had  given 
him  none.  If  Mr.  Rutledge  desired,  why  should 
he  not  seek  the  companionship  of  a  girl  like  Grace 
Markley.  They  were  suited  for  each  other  in 
every  way. 

She  took  out  his  last  letter,  which  she  had  in- 
tended  to  answer  the  previous  day  had  she  not 
been  interrupted  by  Frederick  Markley's  visit.  As 
she  read  over  the  letter  again  full  confidence  in 
Allan,  as  a  man,  returned.  He  had  been  misunder- 
stood. She  had  misunderstood  him  herself.  She 
resolved  to  be  on  her  guard.  If  Grace  Markley 
and  Allan  were  finding  each  other's  society  con- 
genial, she  would  not  interfere.  She  blushed  as 
she  recalled  how  tender  her  thoughts  of  Allan  had 
been  recently.  She  decided  on  desperate  meas- 
ures. 

"I  will  not  answer  this  last  letter  of  his,"  she 
said  to  herself;  "at  least,  not  for  a  long  time.  I 
would  not  know  how  to  write  him  now.  Allan 
and  I  are  merely  friends,  that's  all." 

But  in  carrying  out  her  determination  in  regard 
to  Allan  Mabel  Grayson  had  an  unending  battle 
with  her  heart,  for  a  woman's  heart  is  a  strange 
mystery. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
AFTER  THE  BATTLE. 

The  fight  between  faith  and  unbelief  was  over. 
It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  Rev.  Allan  Rut- 
ledge  was  sitting  in  his  study,  thinking  over  the 
strenuous  two  weeks  of  Gospel  meetings.  He  had 
closed  these  special  services  the  evening  before 
with  a  final  meeting,  in  which  all  were  jubilant 
with  victory.  Over  three  hundred  new  members 
were  to  be  added  to  the  church  the  next  day  as  a 
result  of  the  campaign. 

"It  was  worth  while,"  said  the  minister  aloud, 
speaking  to  himself.  "These  meetings  have 
strengthened  my  own  faith  in  my  message.  Chris- 
tianity, properly  understood,  is  a  mightier  power 
than  the  Church  suspects  at  present.  Its  force 
as  a  redemptive  agency  is  just  beginning  to  be 
realized." 

The  door  bell  rang,  and  Allan  went  downstairs, 
and  found  Frank  Antol  waiting  to  see  him. 

Allan  led  the  way  up  to  the  study  and  then 
opened  the  conversation.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you, 
Frank,"  he  said  cordially.  "We  are  to  have  a 
great  day  to-morrow.  Over  three  hundred  new 
members  are  to  be  received  into  our  fellowship. 
Our  church  will  be  too  small,  I  am  afraid,  to  ac- 

96 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE     97 

commodate  the  people.  I  am  especially  pleased 
that  you  and  your  parents  are  among  the  number 
coming  forward." 

"1  called  to  see  you  about  that,  sir,"  responded 
Frank  hesitatingly.  "I  am  afraid  I  can't  join  the 
church." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Allan  in  surprise.  "I  was 
convinced  you  had  decided  the  matter." 

"There  are  some  things  which  are  not  clear  to 
me,"  said  the  boy. 

"What's  your  difficulty?"  Allan  asked  kindly. 

"You  have  been  talking  of  forgiveness  for  the 
past  few  evenings,"  answered  the  youth.  "Do  we 
have  to  forgive  everybody?"  Frank  Antol  looked 
at  the  minister  straight  in  the  face  as  he  asked  the 
question. 

"Yes,"  said  Allan  decidedly,  "absolutely  every- 
body. No  true  follower  of  Christ  can  harbor  an 
unforgiving  spirit." 

"Then  I  can't  join  the  church,"  said  the  boy  dog- 
gedly. 

"Whom  do  you  hate?"  asked  Allan  in  astonish- 
ment. 

The  boy  was  silent  for  a  little  while  and  then  he 
began:  "You  know  the  sad  story  of  my  sister,  of 
course.  They  all  said  it  was  suicide.  I  know  bet- 
ter. She  was  betrayed  and  murdered,  and  /  hate 
her  murderer  I" 

As  he  spoke  the  last  four  words,  his  eyes  flashed 
fire,  and  he  hissed  out  the  damning  sentence  be- 
tween his  teeth. 
/'What  do  you  know  about  it?"  Allan  asked  sym- 


98  THE   VICTORY  OF 

pathetically,  as  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to  young 
Antol. 

"I  have  never  told  anyone  before,"  responded 
the  boy,  "but  I  will  tell  you.  The  day  after  Viola's 
death  I  was  in  her  room  and  I  found  this  note." 
And  Frank  handed  the  minister  a  piece  of  paper. 

Allan  took  it  and  read  these  words,  written  in  a 
peculiar  kind  of  handwriting:  "Meet  me  to-day  at 
two  at  the  grove  near  the  railroad  bend.  We  will 
settle  things." 

"Ever  since  I  found  that"  said  the  youth  "I 
have  been  trying  to  find  out  whose  writing  it  is. 
I  am  sure  it  is  someone  in  Wellington.  When  I 
find  out  who  wrote  that  note  I  shall  kill  him  at 
once  as  I  would  a  dog!" 

"Frank!  Frank!  you  ought  not  to  talk  that 
way!"  said  the  minister  reprovingly. 

"Mr.  Rutledge,"  went  on  the  boy,  with  a  grow- 
ing earnestness,  "you  do  not  understand.  Viola 
and  I  were  everything  to  each  other.  We  played 
together,  we  sang  together,  we  studied  together. 
I  loved  her  as  a  brother  never  loved  a  sister  be- 
fore. Here  is  her  picture,"  he  added,  handing  Al- 
lan a  little  locket,  opened.  Allan  gazed  intently  at 
the  miniature  photograph,  and  saw  it  was  the  face 
of  a  maiden  possessed  of  rare  beauty,  somewhat 
resembling  Frank,  but  far  surpassing  even  his 
handsome  features  in  her  marvelous  loveliness. 

Allan  sighed  as  he  handed  back  the  locket,  but 
he  said  nothing. 

"I  knew  something  was  wrong,"  the  boy  began 
again,  "for  weeks  before  it  happened.  I  could  see 
something  was  troubling  her.  I  asked  her,  just  a 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  99 

week  before  her  death,  what  it  was.  I  thought 
at  first  she  was  going  to  tell  me,  but  she  said,  'No, 
Frank,  not  now.  Some  day  you'll  know.  Trust 
me,  brother,  it  is  all  right/  When  I  found  that 
note  I  knew.  I  will  find  the  man  who  wrote  it,  and 
I  will  kill  him  at  sight!  I  carry  a  revolver  with 
me  all  the  time."  As  the  boy  said  this,  in  an  ex- 
cited tone,  he  pulled  out  a  wicked  looking  gun 
from  his  hip  pocket. 

Allan  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  He  seemed 
like  a  different  person  from  the  quiet  Frank  Antol 
he  had  known.  His  face  was  flushed.  His  eyes 
were  shining.  The  veins  on  his  temples  stood  out 
like  whipcords. 

"You  must  not  think  of  such  a  thing  Frank  An- 
tol!" said  Allan  sternly.  "You  are  at  heart  a  mur- 
derer yourself  to  talk  like  that." 

"Mr.  Rutledge,"  said  the  boy  rising,  and  begin- 
ning to  walk  up  and  down  the  room  in  his  excite- 
ment, "you  don't  understand.  Think  what  the  ac- 
cursed wretch  has  done  to  our  home.  We  were 
happy;  oh,  so  happy.  There  was  not  a  happier 
home  in  Wellington  than  ours.  Since  then  our 
home  has  been  blasted.  I  have  waked  up  many  a 
night,  and  heard  my  poor  mother  praying  to  die. 
My  father  has  aged  a  year  every  month  since  that 
awful  day.  I  have  heard  him  moan  for  a  whole 
night  through.  My  God,"  he  almost  shouted,  so 
that  Allan  feared  for  his  reason,  "my  God,  if  I 
found  the  destroyer  of  our  home  and  did  not  kill 
him,  I  would  go  mad — mad,  I  tell  you!" 

Allan  was  silent.  This  Bohemian  youth  had 
the  wild  blood  of  his  ancestors  coursing  his  veins.. 


100  THE   VICTORY  OF 

His  wrongs  had  awakened  the  spirit  of  fury  in  his 
soul.  Christian  self-control  seemed  absurd  in  such 
a  case.  But  Allan  was  patient.  He  waited  until 
the  boy's  frenzy  had  spent  itself. 

In  a  little  while  Frank  sat  down  again,  and, 
bowing  his  head  in  his  hands,  gave  way  to  a  flood 
of  tears.  "We  were  so  happy,"  he  moaned.  "My 
sister,  my  poor  sister." 

"Let  me  see  that  note  again,"  said  Allan  calmly. 
He  examined  the  writing  carefully.  The  thought 
of  Frederick  Markley  had  flashed  through  his 
mind,  but  clearly  the  writing  was  not  his.  Allan 
well  knew  young  Markley's  plain,  round  handwrit- 
ing, and  could  have  easily  recognized  it.  The 
writing  on  this  note  was  peculiar,  such  as  Allan 
had  never  seen  before. 

"After  her  death,"  continued  the  boy  more  calm- 
ly, "I  ceased  to  believe  in  God.  If  I  had  believed 
in  God,  I  should  have  hated  him  then.  But  Grace 
Markley  and  you  have  shown  me  the  truth  of  re- 
ligion. I  would  join  the  church,  only  I  can  never 
forgive  my  sister's  murderer.  It  is  impossible." 

"Frank,"  asked  Allan,  "do  you  really  believe  in 
God?" 

"I  do,"  he  answered  firmly. 

"Do  you  believe  that  God  punishes  the  wicked?" 

"I  do." 

"If  God  punishes  them,  isn't  that  enough?  Is 
it  right  to  punish  a  man  twice?  Is  that  just? 
God  says,  'Vengeance  is  mine.  I  will  repay.' " 

"But,"  answered  the  boy,  "are  we  to  allow  vile 
murderers  to  go  free  on  earth.  I  cannot  and  will 
•  not  believe  it." 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  101 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Allan  quickly.  "Magistrates 
are  God's  appointment  as  a  terror  to  evil-doers, 
and  the  magistrate  does  not  bear  the  sword  in 
vain.  In  America  every  crime  is  punished  legally 
when  a  conviction  is  made.  The  law  of  our  land 
hangs  murderers." 

"If  I  find  my  sister's  murderer,  what  do  you 
say  I  ought  to  do?"  asked  Frank,  with  a  look  of 
perplexity  on  his  face. 

"Use  every  lawful  effort  to  convict  him  of  his 
crime,  and  then  the  law  will  demand  its  penalty," 
answered  the  minister. 

"But  if  God  is  just,  can  I  not  avenge  myself?" 
asked  the  young  Bohemian,  the  hot  blood  awaken- 
ing his  fury  again. 

"No,"  said  Allan,  in  a  decided  tone,  "the  Chris- 
tian cannot  take  the  law  into  his  own  hands  in 
America.  He  is  neither  a  patriot  or  a  Christian 
if  he  does  so." 

"I  will  have  to  go,"  said  the  youth  mournfully, 
rising  from  his  seat.  "I  cannot  join  the  church. 
I  know  well  I  would  kill  my  sister's  murderer.  I 
could  not  help  it." 

"Frank,"  said  the  minister  quietly,  "before  you 
decide  to  deny  Christ  because  he  asks  you  to  for- 
give your  enemies  let  us  kneel  in  prayer." 

They  both  knelt  and  Allan  said  to  God :  "O  God, 
we  thank  thee  that  thou  are  just.  We  thank  thee 
that  we  know  thou  wilt  repay.  We  do  not  need 
to  avenge  ourselves,  for  thou  wilt  revenge,  O  thou 
Avenger  of  every  wfcked  deed.  Judge  the  wicked, 
O  God.  Root  them  out  of  the  land  of  the  living. 
But  save  thy  children.  Save  this  boy.  Save  him 


102  THE   VICTORY  OF 

from  his  sin  of  unforgiveness.  Help  him  to  see 
Jesus  on  the  cross,  crying  to  thee  on  behalf  of  his 
murderers.  'Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do.'  O  God,  help  Frank  to  pray, 
'Forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors/ 
Comfort  his  bleeding  heart,  and  heal  the  broken 
spirits  of  his  father  and  mother,  for  thou  canst 
heal  and  thou  canst  save."  As  they  rose  slowly 
from  their  knees,  Allan  held  out  his  hand  to  the 
boy. 

"Frank,"  he  said  earnestly,  "promise  me  you 
will  pray  over  this,  and  then  that  you  will  do  what 
is  right,  what  a  man  ought  to  do.  Will  you 
promise?" 

The  boy  hung  his  head  and  made  no  reply. 

"Won't  you  promise  me  to  do  what  you  find  to 
1>e  right,  for  Viola's  sake?"  pleaded  the  minister. 

"I  will,"  at  last  the  boy  answered,  and  with  a 
warm  handclasp  they  separated. 

"It  will  be  a  hard  fight,"  said  Allan  to  himself, 
as  Frank  went  down  the  street  toward  the  Antol 
cottage,  "but  I  think  Frank  will  play  the  man,  and 
that  I  shall  see  him  to-morrow." 

The  following  day  was  a  lovely  Sabbath.  The 
weather  was  cold,  but  clear  and  delightful.  Long 
before  the  services  began  the  streets  leading  to  the 
Wellington  Church  were  lined  with  people.  It 
was  a  great  day  in  Wellington. 

The  church  was  crowded  to  its  utmost  capacity. 
Among  the  hundreds  who  presented  themselves 
for  admission  into  the  church,  Allan  noticed  with 
joy  Frank  Antol.  His  face  was  pale,  but  there  was 
a  look  of  determination  about  his  countenance,  and 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  10S 

a  glance  of  triumph  in  his  eye  that  showed  Allan 
clearly  that  the  boy  had  gained  the  greatest  of  all 
victories — the  victory  over  himself. 

Later  on  Allan  found  out  that  the  youth  had  sat 
up  nearly  all  night,  fighting  out  his  battle.  He 
read  and  reread  the  story  of  Christ  on  the  cross. 
He  read  and  reread  Christ's  plain  teachings  on 
forgiveness  and  at  last,  near  the  dawn  of  the  day, 
he  triumphed.  Allan  also  saw  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Steen 
and  little  Marjorie,  their  faces  shining  with  their 
new-found  happiness.  Over  half  the  men  in  Mark- 
ley's  factory  presented  themselves. 

There  were  also  many  of  local  prominence  who 
confessed  Christ  that  day.  Among  these  were  the 
president  of  the  First  National  Bank  and  his  cash- 
ier, many  of  the  leading  merchants,  two  of  the 
leading  physicans,  and  several  ladies  well  known 
in  Wellington  society.  A  number  of  students 
from  Wellington  College  and  two  of  the  professors 
also  came  forward,  and  a  group  of  prosperous 
farmers  and  their  wives  from  the  surrounding 
country. 

Of  necessity,  the  majority  were  "common  peo- 
ple," for,  as  Lincoln  used  to  say,  "God  made  more 
common  people  than  he  did  any  other  kind.'* 
There  were  ten  different  nationalities  represented 
in  the  number,  but  all  gave  the  same  confident, 
affirmative  answer  to  Allan's  question,  "Do  you 
accept  Jesus  Christ  as  your  Saviour  and  Lord?" 

It  was  a  most  impressive  sight  when  the  entire 
congregation,  composed  of  such  diverse  elements, 
^tood  together  at  the  close  of  the  service  and 
sang: 


104   THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 

"Blest  "be  the  tie  that  binds 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love; 

The  fellowship  of  kindred  minds 
Is  like  to  that  above." 

Elder  Markley  was  almost  the  only  man  who 
had  a  clouded  face  that  day.  At  dinner  he  sneered 
at  his  daughter's  enthusiasm  and  referred  to  the 
new  members  as  "a  nice  mess  to  come  into  the 
Wellington  Church."  "Look  at  Steen,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "the  drunken  vagabond!" 

"He  was  a  drunken  vagabond,"  said  Grace,  as 
gently  as  she  could,  "but  now  he  is  a  brother 
Christian." 

"Bosh!"  was  all  the  comment  Elder  Markley 
made  to  this  remark. 

But,  apart  from  Markley,  the  entire  congrega- 
tion was  jubilant.  There  was  a  spirit  of  intense 
joy  in  all  the  services  of  the  day,  and  Allan 
preached  with  Pentecostal  power. 

"You  will  have  to  be  careful,  Mr.  Rutledge,  or 
all  this  success  will  turn  your  head,"  said  Deacon 
Stanford,  at  the  close  of  the  evening  service.  "No 
minister  in  all  Iowa  has  accomplished  what  you 
have  in  many  a  year." 

"It  is  the  Lord's  doings,"  said  Allan,  "and  it  is 
marvelous  in  our  eyes.  Satan  will  take  care  that 
I  am  kept  from  pride  the  same  as  Paul  was." 

He  spoke  these  last  words  lightly,  but  he  re- 
membered them  afterward.  Satan  was  attending 
strictly  to  his  business  in  Wellington,  as  Allan 
soon  found  out. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  GAMBLING  CLASS  IN  WELLINGTON 
COLLEGE. 

When  spring  came  Allan's  father  and  mother 
paid  him  a  brief  visit.  They  came  not  only  to  see 
Allan,  but  also  Allan's  younger  brother,  Richard, 
who  was  now  attending  Wellington  College. 

The  Middle  West  is  strewn  with  colleges.  In 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  when  these 
rich  prairies  were  being  settled  by  the  pioneers, 
Henry  Ward  Beecher  exclaimed:  "Our  own  peo- 
ple, scarcely  less  nomadic  than  the  tented  Arab, 
scarcely  less  impetuous  than  the  Goth  and  Hun, 
pour  abroad  along  the  Western  wilderness  in 
swarming  millions,  countless,  with  implements, 
with  wealth  of  flocks  and  herds,  and  with  a  breadth 
and  depth  of  civilization  such  as  never  emigrated 
before.  They  drive  schools  along  with  them,  as 
shepherds  drive  flocks.  They  have  herds  of 
churches,  academies,  lyceums;  and  their  religious 
and  educational  institutions  go  lowing  along  the 
Western  plains  as  Jacob's  herds  lowed  along  the 
Syrian  hills." 

Wellington  College  was  a  typical  Western  in- 
stitution of  learning.  It  was  founded  under  Chris- 
tian influences  and  a  Christian  minister,  Rev.  Dr. 
Older,  was  now  its  president.  He  was  assisted  by 

105 


106  THE  VICTORY  OF 

a  well  trained  faculty,  several  of  whom  were  mem- 
bers of  the  Wellington  Church.  The  college  had 
the  reputation  of  being  a  high-class  Christian 
school,  but  when  Allan  came  to  Wellington  he  was 
much  disappointed  in  the  religious  and  moral  tone 
of  the  institution.  Some  of  the  faculty  were  seem- 
ingly altogether  irreligious.  President  Older  had 
been  a  close  comrade  of  Dr.  Anning  and  shared  his 
views  about  easy-going  methods  in  the  church. 
When  Allan  began  his  aggressive  work,  President 
Older  sided  with  Elder  Markley.  The  feeling  be- 
tween Allan  and  the  college  was  apparently  more 
cordial  after  the  Gospel  meetings,  as  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  students  professed  the  Christian  faith. 

Like  most  of  the  Western  colleges,  Wellington 
College  was  largely  dependent  on  the  Christian 
people  of  the  West  for  its  financial  support,  and 
for  this  reason  Allan  thought  the  college  ought  to 
maintain  a  high  Christian  character. 

Allan's  brother  lived  in  Wellington  Hall,  the 
young  men's  dormitory  on  the  college  campus. 
On  account  of  his  busy  life  as  a  pastor,  Allan  had 
not  seen  very  much  of  his  brother  during  the  win- 
ter months.  He  was  reminded  of  his  duty  to  Dick, 
as  he  called  his  brother,  when  their  parents  visited 
them. 

On  leaving,  Allan's  mother  congratulated  him 
on  his  evident  success,  but  added :  "Don't  over- 
work, my  son.  You  are  beginning  to  look  worn. 
Run  up  to  the  farm  for  a  few  days  occasionally. 
And  don't  forget  about  Dick.  He  needs  your  over- 
sight. I  am  afraid  he  is  getting  into  careless  com- 
pany." 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  107 

The  mother's  eyes,  quickened  by  love,  had  de- 
tected a  little  deterioration  in  her  younger  son. 

"All  right,  mother,"  Allan  answered;  "I'll  come 
to  see  you  this  summer,  and,  meanwhile,  I'll  look 
after  Dick.  There  are  some  careless  fellows 
among  the  students,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  but  most 
of  them  are  fine  young  men.  Dick  will  be  all 
right." 

A  few  evenings  later,  as  Allan  was  driving  in 
from  the  country,  although  it  was  late,  he  decided 
to  call  on  Dick  at  the  college  and  have  a  visit  with 
him. 

He  found  Dick's  room-mate  alone  in  their  room. 
The  boy  told  him  that  Dick  had  been  over  at  the 
college  building  all  evening.  As  Allan  walked 
over  to  the  main  college  building,  he  saw  that  it 
was  entirely  dark,  except  one  room  in  the  semi- 
basement, used  by  the  students  for  social  purposes. 
He  remembered  afterward  that  he  had  noted  how 
closely  the  curtains  of  the  room  were  drawn,  so 
that  only  one  stray  gleam  revealed  the  presence 
of  the  light  within.  Thinking  it  was  some  class 
meeting,  Allan  went  to  the  door  of  the  room,  but 
as  he  was  about  to  knock  he  was  astounded  to  hear 
his  brother  shout  out :  "Spades  are  trump !" 

He  stopped  as  though  stunned,  and  was  soon 
convinced  from  the  talk  that  a  number  of  the  stu- 
dents were  inside  gambling.  Besides  his  brother's 
voice,  he  recognized  the  voice  of  Frederick  Mark- 
ley  also.  Without  thinking  of  what  the  result 
would  be,  but  disgusted  at  finding  such  things  pos- 
Mble  in  Wellington  Co^ege,  Allan  opened  the  door 
and  walked  inside. 


108  THE   VICTORY  OR 

He  found  out  afterward  that  at  such  meetings 
they  always  locked  the  door,  but  that  evening,  for 
some  reason,  it  was  overlooked.  Allan  stalked  m 
before  the  astonished  gamblers.  Money  and 
counting  chips  were  piled  on  the  table.  Allan 
looked  around  and  saw  his  brother,  Frederick 
Markley,  Professor  Gilman  (a  member  of  the  fac- 
ulty) and  some  ten  or  eleven  students. 

Just  as  the  astounded  natives  of  San  Salvador 
looked  on  Columbus  as  a  visitor  from  another 
world,  so  the  surprised  gamblers  stared  speech- 
less at  Allan,  as  though  they  had  seen  a  ghost. 
Markley  was  the  first  to  recover  himself ;  and,  in  a 
burst  of  rage  at  the  intrusion,  he  exclaimed: 

"What  do  you  want,  sir?  This  is  no  place  for 
mushy-mouthed  preachers,  you  damned  hypo- 
crite." 

Markley  was  seated  with  his  back  to  the  new- 
comer, and  he  had  turned  around  his  head  to  hurl 
the  insult  in  the  minister's  face.  With  one  long 
step  Allan  was  beside  him.  Before  anyone  real- 
ized what  was  going  to  happen,  the  minister  had 
seized  Markley  by  the  coat  collar,  swung  him  out 
of  his  chair,  dragged  him  to  the  door,  and  pitched 
him  headlong  into  the  hall. 

Just  one  word,  "cad,"  escaped  Allan's  lips  as 
Markley  disappeared  from  view.  Shutting  the 
door  Allan  calmly  turned  the  key  in  the  lock.  The 
enraged  Markley  at  first  attacked  the  door  furious- 
ly, but  the  stout  oak  panels  easily  resisted,  and  he 
retreated  in  ignominious  defeat.  The  students 
were  thoroughly  frightened.  Blank  amazement 


rALLAN  RUTLEDGE  109 

and  fear  were  on  every  countenance.     Allan  tow- 
ered above  them  like  an  avenging  angel. 

Controlling  himself  with  an  effort,  Allan  sat 
down  in  Markley's  chair,  and  quietly  asked: 
"Boys,  how  long  has  this  been  going  on?" 

Professor  Oilman  had  now  taken  in  the  full 
meaning  of  the  situation,  and  he  became  furious. 
As  a  dog  in  its  mad  chase  after  a  rabbit  will  rush 
against  a  barb  wire  fence,  to  its  serious  hurt,  so 
Professor  Oilman,  blinded  by  his  anger,  rushed 
against  Allan. 

"You  damned  nuisance  of  a  preacher,  we  know 
enough  to  look  after  our  own  business  here.  What 
right  have  you  in  this  room?" 

For  answer  Allan  seized  him,  in  spite  of  his  vig- 
orous resistance,  as  a  cat  catches  a  kitten,  and 
lifted  him  out  of  his  chair  with  one  hand,  while  he 
squirmed  helplessly.  Unlocking  the  door  with  his 
free  hand,  Allan  gave  him  a  pitch  outside,  and 
closed  the  door  again  with  a  bang.  Relocking  the 
door,  he  took  out  the  key  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 
The  whole  time  it  took  to  eject  the  two  men  was 
less  than  two  minutes. 

Allan  again  sat  down  calmly.  He  looked 
around  the  circle  of  crestfallen  students  in  grief 
rather  than  anger.  Before  his  steady  gaze  Dick 
Rutledge  and  all  the  students  dropped  their  heads. 
Allan  did  not  address  his  brother  in  particular,  but, 
speaking  to  all,  he  began,  after  a  painful  silence: 

"Boys,  I  found  out  this  gambling  class  by  acci- 
dent. I  knew  nothing  of  it  until  five  minutes  ago 
c^  less.  But  I  am  glad  I  stumbled  in  here  if  I  can 
convince  you  of  your  folly." 


110  THE   VICTORY  OF 

He  noticed  a  look  of  defiance  coming  into  the 
faces  of  some  of  the  lads,  and  he  went  on : 

"I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt  any  pleasure  you 
were  having,  but  listen,  fellows  1  Have  you  been 
doing  the  manly  thing  in  meeting  here  in  this  way 
to  gamble?" 

None  of  the  students  made  any  attempt  to  an- 
swer. 

"If  it  is  a  manly  thing  you  are  doing,"  went  on 
Allan,  "why  do  you  draw  the  curtains  so  closely 
when  you  are  gambling?  Why  do  you  meet  in 
such  seclusion?" 

"You  well  know" — Allan  looked  the  boys  in  the 
face  as  he  spoke — "if  this  is  reported  your  parents 
will  be  ashamed  of  you,  and  the  reputation  of  the 
college  will  be  injured.  Is  it  a  manly  thing  to 
gamble  when  you  are  ashamed  of  it?"  he  asked 
again.  As  the  boys  still  remained  silent,  the  min- 
ister went  on:  "No,  boys,  you  have  been  doing 
something  that  is  unmanly,  mean  and  sneaking, 
altogether  unworthy  of  you.  Listen  to  me !  I 
want  to  help  you.  Gambling  is  no  recreation  for 
intelligent  men  such  as  you  are.  You  have  surely 
heard  what  Judge  Catron,  of  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States,  said  about  it.  'Gambling,' 
he  said,  'is  a  general  evil,  it  leads  to  vicious  incli- 
nations, destruction  of  morals,  abandonment  of  in- 
dustry and  honest  employments,  a  loss  of  self-con- 
trol and  respect.'  Judge  Catron  is  right.  Love  of 
this  vicious  game  has  already  robbed  some  of  you 
of  your  self-respect  and  self-control,  or  you  would 
not  be  here  to-night." 

The  students  were  listening  with  attention.  Not 


'ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  111 

a  sound  was  heard,  save  Allan's  quiet,  distinct 
voice. 

"But,  fellows,"  he  continued,  in  a  gentler  tone, 
"I  do  not  want  to  upbraid  you,  but  I  do  want  to 
help  you.  Won't  you  all  promise  to  give  up  this 
accursed  game?  I  have  seen  the  brightest  go 
down  on  account  of  it.  What  do  you  say?" 

The  students  were  still  silent.  They  seemed 
unable  to  speak. 

"Fellows" — Allan's  voice  was  low  and  tender 
now — "one  of  you  boys  has  a  mother  that  I  know 
well  would  almost  as  soon  see  her  son  in  his  coffin 
as  sitting  at  this  table  to-night.  Won't  you  prom- 
ise that  this  is  your  last  indulgence  in  gambling?" 

Big  tears  were  falling  over  Dick  Rutledge's 
cheek.  The  others  were  similarly  affected. 

"Mr.  Rutledge" — a  fine,  clean=faced  student,  at 
last  found  his  voice — "I  give  you  my  word  of 
honor  I  am  through." 

"And  I  too,"  said  one  after  another,  until  all  had 
spoken. 

"I  know  that  you  mean  it,"  said  Allan  heartily. 
"Warn  others  against  this  unmanly  and  ruinous 
habit." 

Allan  arose  to  go.  "Before  I  leave,  boys,"  ne 
said  simply,  "let  us  speak  to  God  together." 

The  minister  knelt  down  and  the  rest  followed 
his  example.  There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and 
then  Allan  said:  "Our  Father,  thou  hast  heard  this 
good  promise.  Help  every  man  to  keep  it  all 
through  life  as  a  sacred  vow." 

Allan  arose  again,  and  with  a  cheerful  "Good- 
night, all!"  he  was  off.  The  students  looked  at 


THE   VICTORY  OF 

each  other  for  several  minutes  before  anyone 
spoke.  At  last  someone  addressed  Dick  Rutledge: 
"Dick,  your  brother  is  a  trump,  sure  enough." 

"I  am  through  with  trumps  from  now  on,"  an- 
swered Dick,  with  a  grim  smile,  "but  I  will  keep 
as  close  to  Allan  as  I  can.  If  he  is  my  brother,  I 
want  to  say  that  Allan  always  acts  the  man." 

There  was  no  signs  of  Frederick  Markley  or 
Professor  Gilman  around  the  building  as  the  stu- 
dents separated.  The  gambling  class  in  Welling- 
ton had  adjourned  sine  die. 

When  Allan  left  the  college  that  night  he  never 
intended  to  refer  to  this  incident  further,  but 
strange  things  followed  the  sudden  collapse  of 
gambling  in  this  Christian  college.  The  first  indi- 
cation that  Allan  had  in  regard  to  the  probable  mo- 
mentous results  of  his  night  visit  to  the  college 
was  a  remark  from  Grace  Markley  a  day  or  two 
later. 

"What  is  this  they  are  saying  about  your  visit 
to  the  college  the  other  night?"  she  asked  him,  aa 
they  happened  to  meet  on  the  street. 

"Who  told  you  about  my  visit?"  he  inquired,  in 
surprise. 

"Why  everybody  is  talking  about  it,  Frederick 
says,  and  they  are  telling  all  kinds  of  stones.  I 
knew  they  were  not  true." 

"What  stories  are  they  telling,  Miss  Markley?" 
asked  Allan  hastily. 

The  girl  blushed.  She  would  not  repeat  to  him 
the  outrageous  slanders  she  had  heard  from  her 
brother's  lips. 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  113 

"They  are  foolish  tales/'  she  replied.  "No  one 
will  believe  them." 

Allan  was  puzzled.  What  could  it  mean?  His 
curiosity  was  satisfied  that  afternoon  by  a  visit 
from  Deacon  Stanford.  As  he  came  in  Allan  could 
see  from  his  face  that  something  serious  was  on 
his  mind. 

"What's  wrong?"  asked  the  minister. 

"Let  us  go  up  to  the  study,"  said  the  Deacon. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  study  and  the 
door  was  closed,  the  Deacon  turned  to  Allan: 

"Tell  me  about  your  visit  to  the  college  the 
other  night." 

Allan  told  him  the  whole  story  in  detail. 

"Humph !"  ejaculated  Deacon  Stanford,  "they 
are  trying  to  make  a  big  thing  out  of  that.  I  sup- 
pose Professor  Oilman  and  young  Markley  have 
started  all  the  stories.  They  are  telling  around 
town  how  you  interrupted  a  class  meeting  the 
other  night,  when  you  were  under  the  influence 
of  liquor,  and  that  you  insulted  everybody,  got  into 
a  fight,  broke  some  furniture  and  acted  like  a 
madman." 

"Ah,  that's  what  Miss  Markley  referred  to," 
said  Allan.  "I  saw  her  to-day  and  she  said  there 
were  slanderous  tales  going  around  about  me." 

"Yes,"  continued  the  Deacon,  "Elder  Markley 
came  to  me  this  morning  with  a  long  face  and  told 
me  there  must  be  some  truth  in  the  stories. 
'Where  there's  smoke,  there's  fire,'  he  said,  but  I 
was  as  sure  of  your  innocency  of  wrong-doing  as 
I  <fm  that  my  name  is  Stanford." 


114  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"What  ought  I  to  do?"  asked  Allan,  evidently 
disturbed. 

"I  don't  know  as  I  would  do  anything,"  an- 
swered the  Deacon  slowly.  "The  truth  will  soon 
come  out.  Go  on  as  usual  and  pay  no  attention. 
Markley  proposed  that  the  officers  meet  and  ap- 
point a  committee  to  investigate  your  conduct  that 
night,  but  I  sat  right  down  on  him." 

Allan  clenched  his  fist. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Elder  Markley,  any- 
way, I  wonder?"  went  on  Deacon  Stanford.  "He 
can't  speak  a  civil  word  about  you  any  more." 

"Well,"  said  Allan,  in  an  effort  to  relieve  his 
mind,  "it  reminds  me  of  a  Texas  story.  Down  in 
Texas  a  lot  of  cowboys  were  having  a  big  dance 
one  night.  During  the  festivities  a  drunken  fel- 
low staggered  into  the  dance  room.  The  manager 
of*  the  hall  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  gently 
to  the  door.  The  fellow  appeared  astonished  at 
this  treatment,  and  went  back  to  find  out  what  it 
meant.  This  time  the  manager  roughly  shoved 
him  outside.  Still  the  drunken  Texan  did  not 
comprehend  what  was  meant.  He  reeled  into  the 
hall  for  the  third  time.  The  manager  seized  him 
by  the  neck  and  pants,  and  hurled  him  into  the 
middle  of  the  street.  When  the  fellow  came  to 
again,  he  looked  toward  the  dance  hall  and 
shouted :  'You  fellows  can't  fool  me  any  more.  I 
know  now  what  you  mean.  You  fellows  don't  want 
me.'  I  guess  Elder  Markley  doesn't  want  me  in 
Wellington,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it,"  added 
Allan. 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  115 

"But  the  whole  community  wants  you,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge,"  said  the  Deacon.  "Wellington  was  never 
so  united  on  a  minister  before." 

"I  shall  go  on  and  do  my  duty,  as  I  see  it,"  said 
Allan. 

"Did  I  ever  tell  you  my  life  motto?"  he  asked, 
as  the  Deacon  rose  to  leave. 

"No,  what  is  it?" 

"It  is  Abraham  Lincoln's  motto,"  said  Allan, 
and  he  repeated  slowly  the  noble  words  of  the  mar- 
tyred President:  "With  malice  toward  none,  with 
charity  for  all,  with  firmness  in  the  right,  as  God 
gives  us  to  see  the  right.' " 

"God  bless  you,  sir,"  said  the  good  Deacon, 
shaking  his  hand  warmly  in  farewell. 


CHAPTER  XL 
ALLAN  STIRS  UP  A  TEMPEST. 

When  Allan  Rutledge  was  left  alone  after  Dea- 
con Stanford's  visit,  he  reflected  long  on  the  un- 
expected turn  that  affairs  had  taken.  He  was  nat- 
urally annoyed  at  the  slanders  against  his  fair 
name,  but  what  provoked  him  most  was  the  fact 
that  Elder  Markley  had  suggested  the  appoint- 
ment of  a  committee  to  investigate  his  conduct. 
"The  idea,"  said  Allan  to  himself,  "that  I  could 
be  guilty  of  such  conduct  is  preposterous.  To  ap- 
point such  a  committee  would  be  an  admission  on 
the  part  of  my  church  officers  that  they  suspect 
me,  and  thus  give  some  credence  to  the  ridiculous 
slanders."  The  more  he  thought  about  it,  the 
more  his  blood  boiled.  He  was  a  little  wearied 
anyhow  from  the  strain  of  the  Gospel  meetings, 
and  his  nerves  were  somewhat  unstrung.  Per- 
haps, if  he  had  been  in  his  usual  health,  with  his 
nerves  like  steel  wires,  he  would  have  laughed  at 
the  whole  business.  As  it  was,  the  overstrained 
nerves  gave  way.  After  unusual  excitement  of 
any  kind,  a  reaction  is  sure  to  come.  Caught  m 
such  a  reaction  the  bold  Elijah  proved  a  craven, 
and  quailed  before  Jezebel.  In  his  discouragement 
he  prayed  for  death,  and  yet  fled  from  it  in  terror. 

116 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE   117 

Allan  fretted  over  the  idle  tales  he  had  heard 
until  they  drove  him  to  an  extreme  act,  which  he 
afterward  regretted.  He  made  up  his  mind  to 
meet  the  slanders,  and,  taking  up  his  pen,  wrote 
out  the  following  communication  for  the  Welling- 
ton "Gazette": 
"Editor,  Wellington  'Gazette': 

"Dear  Sir:  It  is  reported  to  me  on  reliable  au- 
thority that  slanderous  tales  are  being  told  in  re- 
gard to  a  visit  which  I  made  to  Wellington  Col- 
lege a  few  nights  ago.  As  I  wish  to  present  the 
truth  of  the  matter,  just  as  it  happened,  I  ask 
leave  to  state  the  following  facts :  I  was  returning 
home  from  a  pastoral  visit  in  the  country  last 
Tuesday  evening,  when  I  called  at  Wellington 
Hall  on  the  college  campus  to  see  one  of  the  stu- 
dents. I  found  out  he  was  at  the  main  college 
building.  Going  there  I  saw  a  light  in  one  of  the 
lower  rooms,  used  generally  for  class  meetings, 
and  supposed  I  should  find  my  friend  at  a  class 
meeting.  What  was  my  surprise  on  approaching 
the  door  to  hear  loud  talking,  which  I  at  once  un- 
derstood as  the  talk  of  men  engaged  in  the  game 
of  gambling.  I  walked  into  the  room,  and  found 
a  gambling  game  in  full  progress.  There  were 
thirteen  or  fourteen  in  the  room,  all  students  of  the 
college,  except  two,  Frederick  Markley  and  Pro- 
fessor Gilman.  For  good  reasons  I  ejected  these 
two  men  from  the  room  and  then  talked  writh  the 
students  on  the  evils  of  gambling.  All  of  them, 
without  exception,  promised  me  never  to  gamble 
a^ain.  Before  I  left  I  had  a  word  of  prayer  with 
them.  There  was  no  fight.  No  furniture  was 


118  THE   VICTORY  OF 

broken,  and  my  meeting  with  the  students  was  as 
quiet  as  a  prayer  meeting.  In  regard  to  the  re- 
port that  I  was  intoxicated,  I  may  say  my  father 
was  a  total  abstainer  before  I  was  born,  and  I  have 
never  touched  liquor  in  my  life.  This  is  a  full  and 
accurate  account  of  the  whole  affair,  and  I  am 
ready  at  any  time  to  make  affidavit  to  that  effect, 
if  desired.  Yours  sincerely, 

"Allan   Rutledge. 

"P.  S. — I  may  assure  the  many  friends  of  Well- 
ington College  that  this  gambling  class  has  been 
discontinued  since  my  visit." 

Next  morning  Allan  handed  this  communication 
to  the  editor  of  the  Wellington  "Gazette."  Like 
all  newspaper  editors,  he  was.  delighted  to  get  such 
a  piece  of  "live  copy,"  and  he  printed  the  article  in 
a  prominent  place  in  the  paper,  which  came  out 
that  evening. 

In  giving  this  communication  to  the  press,  Allan 
never  dreamed  of  injuring  the  college.  He  felt 
that  this  plain  statement  of  the  facts  in  the  case 
would  clear  the  Wellington  atmosphere  of  its  fogs 
of  slander  against  himself,  and  that  there  the  mat- 
ter would  end.  He  realized  that  the  mention  of 
the  names  of  Markley  and  Oilman  in  the  article 
was  extremely  severe,  but  he  felt  justified  in  doing 
this,  as  he  was  convinced  that  they  had  deliberate- 
ly lied  about  him,  thinking  that  he  would  not  de- 
fend himself,  lest  he  injure  the  reputation  of  the 
college.  But  Allan  was  convinced  that  the  truth 
cannot  possibly  injure  anyone,  or  any  institution, 
and  after  giving  the  statement  to  the  "Gazette" 
he  dismissed  the  matter  from  his  mind. 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  119 

The  result  of  the  appearance  of  Allan's  letter 
in  the  evening  paper  was  astounding,  and  no  one 
was  more  amazed  than  Allan  himself.  The  arti- 
cle was  at  once  telegraphed  all  over  Iowa  and  the 
surrounding  States,  and  the  next  morning  it  ap- 
peared, with  large  headlines,  in  all  the  daily  papers 
of  the  Middle  West. 

The  headlines  were  mostly  misleading,  such  as 
"A  Minister  Calls  Wellington  College  a  Gambling 
Hell,"  "Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  Attacks  Wellington 
College."  One  paper,  with  a  large  circulation,  had 
this  headline  in  heavy  type :  "Great  Sensation  in 
Wellington — Its  College  Called  a  Gambling  Hell." 

The  success  of  Allan's  Gospel  meetings  had  won 
him  quite  a  little  fame  over  the  State,  but  his  state- 
ment about  gambling  in  Wellington  College  made 
him  at  once  the  most-talked-of  minister  in  the 
Middle  West.  The  article  was  widely  copied,  and 
papers  containing  it  were  sent  to  Allan  from  all 
parts  of  the  country. 

Allan  felt  like  a  man  who  has  unsuspectingly 
thrown  a  lighted  match  into  what  he  supposed  to 
be  a  barrel  of  sand,  but  found  out,  too  late,  it  was 
a  barrel  of  gunpowder.  The  shock  of  the  explo- 
sion dazed  and  blinded  him.  But  of  one  thing 
Allan  was  certain :  He  had  spoken  the  truth  in  his 
public  arraignment  of  the  college,  and  he  resolute- 
ly determined,  with  a  fresh  grip  on  himself,  to 
meet  the  occasion  like  a  man.  He  soon  had  need 
of  all  the  reserve  power  in  his  manhood,  as  the 
wave  of  excitement  he  had  stirred  up  soon  became 
a^raging  tempest. 

The  college  at  once  felt  the  effect  of  the  expos- 


120  THE   VICTORY  OF, 

ure.  Parents  wrote  to  President  Older,  inquiring  if 
their  sons  were  among  the  gamblers.  Men  who 
had  supported  the  college  financially  declared  that 
if  Wellington  College  tolerated  gambling  they 
were  through  with  it.  Some  students  were  ac- 
tually withdrawn  from  the  institution  by  their 
alarmed  parents. 

The  college  had  always  been  Wellington's 
crowning  glory,  and  this  widespread  attack  on  its 
reputation  stirred  up  a  storm  of  protest  in  Well- 
ington against  Allan's  "lack  of  judgment,"  as  they 
called  it.  At  the  head  of  these  forces,  antagonistic 
to  the  young  minister,  was  Elder  Markley.  He 
was  openly  rejoiced  at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken, 
and  now  saw  an  excuse  to  drive  Allan  unceremon- 
iously out  of  the  community. 

Accompanied  by  old  Abe  Daniels,  Elder  Mark- 
ley  called  on  Allan.  The  two  church  officers  seat- 
ed themselves  in  silence  in  the  study.  Allan 
waited  for  Mr.  Markley  to  begin  the  conversation. 
After  a  number  of  preparatory  coughs  and  hems, 
Elder  Markley  began: 

"Mr.  Rutledge,  we  have  called  to  see  you  in  re- 
gard to  the  article  you  have  sent  over  the  country 
slandering  our  college." 

"Truth  never  slanders,"  said  Allan. 

"Sir,"  continued  the  church  officer,  as  grave  as 
a  judge  sentencing  a  criminal  to  death,  "that  was 
an  awful  thing  for  you  to  do." 

"It  was  an  awful  thing,  certainly,  to  teach  the 
students  of  Wellington  College  how  to  gamble/' 
rejoined  the  minister. 


'ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

"There  may  be  a  lawsuit  about  this,"  went  on 
the  other. 

"Yes,"  Allan  responded,  "gambling  is  an  offense 
against  the  laws  of  the  commonwealth  of  Iowa." 

"What  did  you  mention  my  son's  name  for?" 
asked  Markley,  getting  angry  at  Allan's  cool  re- 
joinders. 

"Because  he  was  there,  sir,"  said  Allan. 

"You  have  injured  Wellington  College  through- 
out all  the  West,"  continued  Markley,  with  a  glare 
at  the  minister. 

"I  have  certainly  injured  the  gambling  class  at 
the  college,"  Allan  replied. 

"Your  usefulness  in  Wellington  is  finished," 
Markley  said,  with  a  sneer.  "We  shall  expect  you 
to  resign  as  a  result  of  this." 

All  this  time  old  Abe  Daniels  had  sat  in  silence, 
looking  first  at  Allan  and  then  at  Markley. 

At  this  point  he  wheezed  out: 

"Yes,  we  expect  you  to  resign." 

"We  will  see  about  that  later,"  said  Allan,  ris- 
ing, as  though  the  interview  were  at  an  end.  "Is 
there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  to-day,  gentle- 
men?" he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Markley,  in  some  confusion  at  Allan's 
move. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  you  called  to  see  me,"  said 
Allan,  bowing  them  out.  "I  hope  you  will  come 
again  some  other  day." 

Before  the  two  men  knew  just  how  it  happened 

they  were   standing  outside  on  the   steps.     In  no 

^gentle   mood  Markley  went  down  the   street.     In 

spite   of  his   boldness   in   facing   Markley,    Allan's 


122  THE   VICTORY  OF 

mind  was  in  confusion.  He  hardly  knew  which 
way  to  turn.  He  had  just  learned  that  day  that 
the  faculty  of  the  college  had  decided  not  to  attend 
the  Wellington  Church  as  long  as  Allan  was  pas- 
tor. He  felt  like  a  man  standing  on  quicksand. 
Every  movement  he  made  to  extricate  himself 
seemed  to  make  his  plight  worse. 

But  one  thing  was  still  simple  and  plain:  He 
could  keep  on  doing  his  work  as  a  minister  of 
Christ  in  "comforting  those  that  mourn."  When 
Elder  Markley  and  old  Abe  Daniels  had  gone  that 
afternoon,  he  went  out  to  make  a  call  in  a  hum- 
ble home  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  A  poor 
girl,  daughter  of  a  German  widow,  was  lying  at 
death's  door  from  that  dread  disease  that  sweeps 
away  so  many  lives — consumption.  He  had  re- 
ceived an  urgent  invitation  to  call  that  day,  al- 
though the  girl  was  not  a  member  of  his  church. 
He  found  the  sufferer  even  worse  than  he  sup- 
posed. When  he  entered  the  lowly  home,  a  glance 
at  the  little  group  of  neighbors  whispering  in  sad 
tones  told  him  that  the  grim  reaper  was  about  to 
harvest  another  of  the  precious,  tender  stalks  of 
earth.  As  Allan  entered  the  little  bedroom  he  saw 
the  widowed  mother  bending  over  her  dying 
daughter. 

At  the  sound  of  Allan's  footsteps,  the  poor 
widow  looked  up  and  greeted  the  minister  with  a 
wan  smile.  Allan  felt  rebuked,  as  he  looked  at 
her,  that  he  had  allowed  his  own  petty  disappoint- 
ments to  grieve  his  soul  when  such  weary  hearts 
as  this  widow's  needed  cheer. 

The  girl   opened  her  eyes   and   recognized   him, 


'ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

as  he  had  called  several  times  previously  at  Grace 
Markley's  request.  She  made  a  faint  motion  beck- 
oning him  to  her  side,  and,  as  he  leaned  over  her, 
she  gasped.  "Read  the  Twenty-third  Psalm  and 
pray." 

Allan  sat  down  beside  the  bed  and  took  out  his 
pocket  Bible  which  he  always  carried.  He  turned 
to  the  shepherd  Psalm  and  began  to  read  slowly: 

"The  Lord  is  my  shepherd;  I  shall  not  want. 
He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures;  he 
leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters." 

"Yes,"  whispered  the  weary  sufferer,  "he  lead- 
eth me." 

Allan  went  on  again :  "He  restoreth  my  soul ; 
he  leadeth  me  in  the  paths  of  righteousness  for  his 
name's  sake.  Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil." 

"No  evil,"  repeated  the  poor  girl,  with  closed 
eyes.  "No  evil." 

"For  thou  art  with  me,"  Allan  read,  "thy  rod 
and  thy  staff,  they  comfort  me." 

"Yes,  it's  true,"  added  the  girl. 

When  Allan  had  finished  the  Psalm,  the  hum- 
ble believer  said: 

"Thank  God!  thank  God!" 

The  mother  was  weeping  softly,  sitting  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed.  The  few  neighbors  stood  around 
the  door  of  the  bedroom.  It  was  too  small  to  ac- 
commodate them  all. 

Before  praying,  Allan  took  a  little  hymn  book 
out  of  his  pocket,  and  began  to  sing  a  favorite 
jiymn  of  his.  He  had  a  rich,  well  modulated,  tenor 
voice,  and  in  his  softest  tones  he  sang: 


124   THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 

"Just   beyond   the    River   Jordan,   just   across    its 

chilling   tide, 
There's   a  land   of  life   eternal;   through  its  vales 

sweet  waters  glide. 
By  the  crystal  river  flowing  grows  the  tree  of  life 

so  fair, 
Many  loved  ones  wait  our  coming,  in  the  Upper 

Garden  there. 

We  shall  meet  them  some  bright  morning, 
Resting  by  the  waters  fair, 
They  are  waiting  for  our  coming, 
In  the  Upper  Garden  there." 

"Yes,  I'll  meet  them.  I  see  them  now.  The  an- 
gels are  coming.  Good-by,  mother,  good-by." 
The  girl  was  evidently  on  the  dread  border  be- 
tween the  Seen  and  the  Unseen  World. 

The  mother  hastened  to  raise  her  head.  She 
made  an  effort  as  though  to  sit  up,  and  then  sank 
back,  exhausted,  whispering,  "Good-by,  good-by," 
and  all  was  still. 

After  the  first  wild  outburst  of  grief  was  over, 
Allan  led  the  little  company  in  prayer.  His  "heart- 
cry  to  the  Comforter  of  the  comfortless  made  the 
little  bedroom  a  gateway  to  the  Unseen  World, 
and  his  faith  in  Him  who  is  the  resurrection  and 
the  life  made  death  itself  the  harbinger  of  life. 

The  stars  were  shining  as  he  walked  home,  and. 
looking  up,  Allan  repeated  to  himself  Goethe's 
brave  words: 

"There  eyes  do  regard  you  in  Eternity's  stillness, 
There  is  all  fullness,  ye  brave,  to  reward  you: 
Work  and  despair  not." 


CHAPTER  XII. 
A  LETTER  FROM  WELLINGTON. 

"Here  is  a  big  letter  for  you,  Mabel,  from  Well- 
ington. Grace  must  have  written  you  a  regular 
book  this  time,"  said  Judge  Grayson  one  morn- 
ing to  his  daughter,  as  he  handed  her  a  letter. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  get  it,"  answered  Mabel, 
eagerly  reaching  for  the  large  envelope.  "Grace 
has  not  written  me  for  a  long  while  and  I  am  so 
anxious  to  hear  from  there." 

"I  understand  young  Rutledge  is  having  a  seri- 
ous time  on  account  of  his  clash  with  Wellington 
College,"  continued  the  Judge.  "They  are  to 
bring  the  matter  up  at  the  Annual  Church  Con- 
vention, which  meets  in  Des  Moines  next  month. 
Mr.  Markley  has  written  me  about  it.  He  is  very 
bitter  against  the  minister." 

"I  think  Mr.  Rutledge  was  justified  in  condemn- 
ing gambling  among  the  students  of  a  Christian 
college,"  responded  Mabel. 

"So  do  I,  my  daughter,"  said  the  Judge  earnest- 
ly, "and  I  sympathize  very  much  with  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge.  As  one  of  the  trustees  of  our  Des  Moines 
College,  I  understand  about  these  things.  The 
trouble  with  Wellington  College  has  been  that  they 
flave  allowed  a  few  of  the  trustees  to  manage  it, 

125 


126  THE   VICTORY  OF 

and  some  of  them  are  not  even  professing  Chris- 
tians. It  is  all  a  mistake.  Mr.  Rutledge  will 
really  do  the  college  a  world  of  good  in  the  end, 
even  if  he  did  use  extreme  measures." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  papa,"  answered 
Mabel.  "I  must  run  upstairs  and  read  this  letter 
from  Grace  Markley.  She  has  evidently  written 
me  all  the  news  this  time." 

When  Mabel  opened  the  letter  and  looked  :t 
over,  it  was  like  the  manuscript  of  a  book.  There 
was  page  after  page,  until  at  last  Mabel  exclaimed 
to  herself:  "My,  Grace  must  have  a  lot  of  news 
to  tell  me  that  is  interesting  if  she  found  time  to 
write  a  letter  like  this.  I  never  got  such  a  letter 
in  my  life  before."  The  letter  was  dated,  "Well- 
ington, Iowa,  July  6,  190-."  "My  Dearest  Mabel," 
it  began,  "I  am  ashamed  I  have  not  written  you 
for  so  long.  I  expect  you  have  seen  in  the  news- 
papers all  about  the  trouble  here  between  Mr. 
Rutledge  and  the  college.  We  have  had  a  per- 
fectly dreadful  time.  Papa  and  Frederick  are  so 
bitter  against  our  minister  that  mamma  and  I  can't 
even  mention  his  name  in  the  house  if  they  are 
present.  I  am  sorry  Mr.  Rutledge  named  Fred- 
erick in  the  letter  he  wrote  to  the  Wellington  'Ga- 
zette/ as  Fred  says  he  will  never  forgive  him.  Mr. 
Rutledge  told  me  he  regretted  writing  this  letter 
that  has  stirred  up  so  many  against  him,  but  at 
the  time  he  was  so  worked  up  over  some  stories 
that  were  going  around  in  regard  to  his  visit  to 
the  college  the  night  he  found  them  gambling  that 
he  thought  it  was  his  duty  to  do  it.  He  will  do 


'ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  127 

anything  he  feels  to  be  his  duty,  no  matter  what 
the  result  may  be. 

"For  a  few  weeks  everything  was  upside  down. 
All  the  professors  left  the  church,  including  Presi- 
dent Older,  and  most  of  the  students  were  highly 
offended  at  Mr.  Rutledge.  Many  of  our  best  peo- 
ple said  very  harsh  things  about  him,  and  I  was 
afraid  our  great  work  in  the  community  was 
ruined.  I  never  prayed  so  hard  over  anything  be- 
fore as  I  did  over  our  church  and  minister  at  that 
time.  But  things  are  looking  very  different  now. 
Several  of  the  professors  and  nearly  all  of  the  stu- 
dents are  back  in  the  church  again,  and  Lester 
Grey,  one  of  the  seniors,  told  me  that  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  was  now  considered  a  kind  of  hero  by  all  the 
boys. 

"Mr.  Rutledge  suffered  much  during  the  strain 
of  the  first  few  weeks.  He  never  mentioned  the 
matter  publicly,  except  once,  the  second  Sabbath 
after  it  happened,  when  the  feeling  against  him 
was  at  its  height.  He  made  a  short  prelude  to  his 
sermon,  saying  that  it  was  utterly  false  that  he 
was  trying  to  injure  Wellington  College.  He  said 
he  was  seeking  its  welfare.  He  compared  his  at- 
titude to  Luther  attacking  the  evils  of  the  Chris- 
tian church  in  Germany,  and  to  Lincoln  arraign- 
ing slavery  in  our  own  country. 

;'  'Martin  Luther,'  he  exclaimed,  and  I  never 
saw  him  look  so  grand,  'was  not  the  enemy  of  the 
Christian  Church  because  he  fought  its  errors. 
Abraham  Lincoln  was  not  the  foe  of  America  be- 
c^use  he  denounced  slavery,  which,  like  a  viper, 
had  fastened  itself  to  our  body  politic.  Luther 


128  THE   VICTORY   OF 

was  the  best  friend  the  Christian  Church  had  in 
his  day,  and  Lincoln  was  America's  most  patriotic 
citizen.  I,  too,  am  a  faithful  friend  of  Wellington 
College,  and  I  will  continue  to  be  so,  no  matter 
what  may  happen,  for  I  believe  in  Christian  edu- 
cation, and  I  stand  for  the  Christian  college,  but 
I  want  it  to  be  a  Christian  college  in  reality,  and 
not  in  name  only/ 

"I  shall  never  forget  these  words,  nor  the  ap- 
pearance of  our  minister  as  he  spoke  them.  He 
seemed  to  tower  above  us  all  like  a  giant.  Al- 
though it  was  in  church,  the  great  congregation 
applauded  loudly,  and  from  that  time  on  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  has  been  gaining  ground  every  day.  The 
whole  church  is  now  back  of  him,  and  I  tell 
mamma  that  if  only  papa,  Frederick,  old  Mr.  Dan- 
iels, President  Older  and  a  few  of  the  professors 
would  let  the  matter  drop  all  would  go  on  as  usual. 
But  they  say  they  are  determined  to  drive  him 
out  of  Wellington — a  thing  that  the  church  will 
never  permit. 

"Another  thing  happened  just  then  that  turned 
the  sympathy  of  the  people  to  our  minister.  He 
was  brutally  attacked  one  night  by  two  ruffians. 
Fortunately  young  Frank  Antol,  a  son  of  the  man 
who  wept  so  at  the  shop  meeting  when  you  sang, 
came  along.  He  is  only  a  boy,  but  he  is  very 
strong,  and  he  leaped  on  one  of  the  fellows  and 
bore  him  to  the  ground.  Mr.  Rutledge  soon  got 
the  better  of  the  other  man,  but  if  he  had  been 
alone  I  am  afraid  he  might  have  been  roughly  han- 
dled. As  it  was,  he  received  a  blow  on  the  face, 
and  carried  the  mark  for  several  days.  This  act 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  129 

of  his  enemies  has  made  him  more  popular  than 
ever  with  the  common  people. 

"The  work  of  the  church  has  gone  on  with  as 
much  enthusiasm  as  ever,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  never 
preached  so  well  as  now.  All  the  new  members 
are  standing  faithful  and  are  even  bringing  in 
some  more  of  their  friends,  so  that  our  church 
membership  is  now  the  largest  in  the  whole  State 
of  Iowa  outside  of  Des  Moines. 

"We  have  several  remarkable  cases  of  trans- 
formed lives.  A  drunken  fellow,  called  Steen,  is 
now  sober  and  industrious,  and  his  home  is  so 
changed  you  could  not  tell  it  was  the  same  family. 
His  daughter  is  little  Marjorie  Steen,  of  whom  I 
once  wrote  you.  Professor  Tilley,  who  has  taken 
Frederick's  place  as  chorister,  says  Marjorie  has  a 
remarkable  voice,  and  he  is  sure  she  will  make  her 
mark  as  a  singer.  I  have  arranged  with  him  to 
begin  the  training  of  her  voice  at  once.  Another 
case  is  that  of  a  Bohemian  infidel,  Louis  Antoine. 
He  works  in  papa's  factory,  and  was  formerly  a 
rough,  profane  man.  Now  he  is  one  of  Christ's 
best  witnesses  in  Wellington. 

"Mr.  Rutledge  conducts  a  large  Bible  class  every 
Monday  evening.  About  four  hundred  people  at- 
tend it  week  after  week,  and  they  all  bring  their 
Bibles  with  them.  It  is  a  wonderful  sight  to  see 
the  number  of  men  who  attend.  Many  of  the 
workmen  in  the  factory  are  present  regularly.  One 
of  them,  an  Irishman,  called  Pat  McGinnis,  often 
amuses  the  class.  He  is  a  real  Irishman,  always 
ready  with  an  answer,  warm-hearted  and  loyal.  I 
think  he  would  gladly  die  for  Mr.  Rutledge's  sake, 


130  THE   VICTORY  OF 

if  necessary.  Last  Monday  evening  Mr.  Rutledge 
asked  the  class  what  was  meant  by  an  'unclean 
spirit/  and  before  anyone  could  answer  Mr.  Mc- 
Ginnis  shouted  out:  'Shure,  your  rivirince,  doesn't 
that  means  a  'dhurty  divil.'  At  another  time  the 
question  was  asked,  'What  was  Peter's  chief  fail- 
ing?' and  Pat  replied  at  once:  'He  was  loike  an 
Irishman.  His  brains  were  at  the  back  of  his 
head,  an'  he  was  always  a  spakin'  first,  and  then 
thinkin'  about  it,  afterward.' 

"When  he  refers  to  Timothy  he  calls  him  'the 
broth  o'  a  bhoy.'  We  had  a  great  celebration  here 
on  the  Fourth.  It  was  a  Glorious  Fourth  in  Well- 
ington. Senator  Dolliver  was  the  orator  of  the 
day,  and  as  Mr.  Rutledge  had  met  him  previously 
he  was  honored  by  being  invited  to  ride  in  the  car- 
riage with  the  Senator  to  the  park,  and  afterward 
he  introduced  Mr.  Dolliver  to  the  big  crowd.  Mr. 
Rutledge  is  to  give  an  address  on  'International 
Peace'  at  our  Chautauqua,  and  I  wish  you  could  be 
here  then. 

"At  commencement  time  President  Older  and 
the  college  professors  treated  Mr.  Rutledge  very 
shabbily,  everyone  said.  They  had  the  graduation 
exercises  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  instead  of  the 
church,  as  usual,  and  Mr.  Rutledge  was  not  invited 
to  take  any  part  at  all,  much  to  the  disgust  of  the 
students  and  the  whole  community.  I  was  talking 
yesterday  to  our  minister,  and  I  told  him  he  was 
looking  pale  and  worn  out.  I  urged  him  to  take  a 
few  weeks'  rest  before  our  Chautauqua  begins.  He 
told  me  he  was  going  to  run  up  to  his  father's 
farm  on  the  Des  Moines  River  for  a  three  weeks' 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  131 

vacation,    and    he    certainly    needs    it.     He    leaves 
next  Monday,  and  I  hope  he  will  get  a  good  rest. 

"Now,  dear  Mabel,  I  have  written  you  all  this 
because  I  thought  you  wouJd  like  to  hear  exactly 
how  things  are,  as  I  know  you  are  interested  in 
Mr.  Rutledge.  He  says  he  has  not  heard  from 
you  in  a  long  time,  and  he  wonders  what  is  the 
matter.  Write  him  a  letter.  He  needs  cheer  and 
help  now.  He  seems  to  think  the  world  of  you. 
Come  and  see  us  when  you  can  and  we  will  talk 
it  all  over,  because  I  have  more  to  tell  you  than  » 
I  could  write  in  a  week. 

"With  much  love,  I  am,  your  loving  cousin, 

"Grace  Markley." 

When  Mabel  Grayson  had  finished  this  long  let- 
ter she  sat  thinking  for  several  minutes.  "Poor 
Allan !"  at  last  she  exclaimed  aloud,  speaking  to 
herself.  "I  wish  I  could  tell  him  how  much  I  sym- 
pathize with  him,  but  it  is  evident  from  this  letter 
that  Grace  and  he  are  very  close  friends.  I  must 
not  allow  myself  to  make  trouble  between  them. 
Since  Grace  asks  it  I  think  I  ought,  perhaps,  to 
write  him  a  few  lines  of  encouragement,"  she 
added  pensively. 

She  began  a  letter  to  him  that  very  morning, 
but  when  it  was  written  it  sounded  so  stiff  and 
formal  that  she  felt  she  could  not  send  such  a  cold 
letter  as  that.  Then  she  tried  again,  but  the  sec- 
ond attempt  produced  a  letter  so  cordial  and  warm 
that  she  was  afraid  to  send  it.  She  tore  both  of 
the  letters  up  and  gave  over  trying  to  write  to 
fiim  that  day.  She  finally  wrote  a  note  to  Grace 
Markley,  telling  her  she  was  much  interested  in 


132  THE   VICTORY  OF 

her  letter,  and  that  she  would  write  Mr.  Rutledge 
before  long. 

"I  am  just  starting  on  a  camping  trip  on  the  Des 
Moines  River  with  a  few  friends,"  the  letter  con- 
cluded. "I  wish  you  were  to  go  with  us,  as  we 
expect  to  have  a  jolly  time." 

"Poor  Mr.  Rutledge,"  said  Grace  to  herself, 
when  she  read  this  note  from  Mabel,  "I  am  afraid 
she  does  not  care  much  for  him,  and  I  can  plain- 
ly see  he  is  deeply  in  love  with  her.  I  hope  she 
will  write  him  soon." 

Grace  Markley  had  not  exaggerated  the  bitter- 
ness of  Allan's  enemies  against  him.  Seeing  that 
he  was  becoming  even  more  popular  than  ever  in 
Wellington,  Elder  Markley  began  writing  to 
neighboring  pastors  about  the  "trouble  between 
the  church  and  the  college,"  and  assuring  his 
brethren  in  the  Lord  that  only  the  resignation  uf 
this  "ill-balanced  enthusiast,  Mr.  Rutledge,"  could 
again  bring  "peace  and  harmony"  to  the  church 
of  Wellington. 

As  Markley  well  knew,  some  of  these  pastors 
had  been  jealous  of  Allan's  success,  and  they  lent 
a  ready  ear  to  Markley's  suggestions.  Besides 
Markley  was  looked  upon  as  the  leading  officer  in 
the  church.  Accordingly  the  matter  was  to  be 
brought  up  in  the  Annual  Church  Convention  in 
Des  Moines,  as  Judge  Grayson  had  told  his  daugh- 
ter. In  case  it  desired  to  do  so,  this  convention 
had  the  power  to  remove  Allan  from  Wellington, 
in  spite  of  the  protests  of  the  church,  and  Markley 
was  sure  he  had  influence  enough  with  the 
ecclesiastical  "machine"  in  Iowa  to  accomplish 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  133 

this.  He  was  aided  in  his  schemes  by  President 
Older,  who  had  a  large  influence  in  the  State,  and 
he  used  it  all  to  discredit  Wellington's  minister. 
Allan  knew  of  all  this  plotting,  but  he  kept  stead- 
ily on  his  way.  He  found  Deacon  Stanford  a  wise 
counselor  and  a  true  friend.  The  deacon  in- 
formed him  of  all  the  plots  of  his  enemies,  but 
told  him  to  "quietly  wait  the  salvation  of  God." 

"The  people  are  with  you  to  a  man,"  assured 
the  deacon,  "and  this  is  a  country  in  which  the 
people  rule  in  Church  and  State.  Let  them  bring 
this  matter  up  in  the  convention,  if  they  wish.  I 
will  be  there,  as  well  as  Elder  Markley.  President 
Older  and  those  professors  are  only  digging  their 
own  graves.  It  will  be  your  victory  in  the  end, 
Mr.  Rutledge." 

Allan  had  also  a  needed  stay  in  Grace  Markley. 
In  many  ways  she  cheered  him  on,  and  there  grew 
up  between  them  a  mutual  understanding  and  con- 
fidence. It  was  stronger  than  ordinary  friendship, 
but  not  deep  enough  to  be  called  "love,"  unless  it 
were  the  devoted  love  that  sometimes  exists  be- 
tween a  brother  and  sister.  Allan  never  dreamed 
of  asking  Grace  to  be  his  wife,  nor  did  she  regard 
him  in  any  way,  at  that  time,  as  a  possible  hus- 
band. But,  in  his  lonely  conflict  in  those  awful, 
dreary  weeks,  when  Mabel  Grayson  no  longer 
wrote,  when  old  friends  became  cool,  when  his 
way  was  dark,  Allan  found  in  Grace  Markley  the 
human  sympathy  for  which  the  strongest  crave, 
and  in  her  gentle  way  she  helped  to  heal  his 
.wounds  and  nerve  his  arm  again  for  the  battle  of 
life. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
ON  THE  DES  MOINES  RIVER. 

"Good-by,  everybody!"  shouted  Allan  Rutledge, 
as  he  stood  on  the  rear  platform  of  the  Limited 
Express  one  Monday  morning,  as  he  was  about  to 
start  for  a  three  weeks'  vacation  on  the  old  farm. 

"Good-by!"  shouted  back  a  large  crowd  of 
Allan's  church  members,  who  had  gathered  at  the 
station  to  see  him  off  and  to  wish  him  a  pleasant 
vacation. 

"Forget  all  about  us  for  three  weeks,"  said  Dea- 
con Stanford,  as  Allan  bent  over  and  shook  his 
hand  in  farewell. 

"Oh,  think  of  us  once  in  a  while,  but  come  back 
rested !"  exclaimed  Grace  Markley,  who  was  stand- 
ing by  the  Deacon's  side. 

"Come  back  soon.  We  need  you  here !"  cried 
out  a  chorus  of  voices. 

The  conductor  came  running  out  of  the  tele- 
graph office,  holding  his  watch  in  his  hand,  and 
signaled  to  the  engineer  to  start.  The  train  be- 
gan to  move. 

"Good-by,  good-by,  God  bless  you  all,"  said 
Allan  simply. 

Led  by  Grace  Markley  the  crowd  began  to  sing: 

134 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE   135 

"God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again: 
By  his  counsels  guide  uphold  you 
With  his  sheep  securely  fold  you, 
God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again." 

The  speed  of  the  train  increased.  The  sound 
of  the  farewell  music  died  away  in  the  distance. 
Allan  stood  waving  his  hand  until  the  train  shot 
round  a  bend  and  hid  his  friends  from  view,  as 
they  waved  their  handkerchiefs  in  a  last  salute. 
As  the  train  rushed  along  through  the  fertile  fields, » 
green  with  corn,  and  waving  with  wheat  and  oats, 
he  watched  the  city  of  Wellington  until  it  became 
a  speck  on  the  prairie. 

"I  will  come  back  again,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"My  work  for  God  lies  in  Wellington.  I  will  finish 
the  work  he  has  given  me  to  do."  Allan  changed 
cars  after  a  while,  at  a  junction  station,  taking  a. 
branch  railroad,  which  ran  alongside  the  DCS 
Moines  River.  He  had  a  long  wait  for  this  local' 
train,  and  it  was  supper  time  before  he  reached 
the  little  village,  three  miles  from  his  father's 
farm.  He  took  supper  at  the  village,  and  then 
started  to  walk  to  his  destination,  as  he  had  not 
written  home  anything  about  his  coming,  wishing 
to  surprise  them. 

It  was  in  July.  Iowa  was  as  lovely  as  a  picture, 
and  fruitful  as  the  Garden  of  Eden.  The  corn  had 
just  been  "laid  by,"  as  the  farmers  say  when  corn 
plowing  is  over.  The  immense  fields  of  this  rich 
p  cereal,  in  which  lies  the  wealth  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley,  looked  beautiful  with  their  long,  regular 
rows  of  tall,  green  stalks.  Waving  fields  of  wheat, 


136  THE   VICTORY  OF 

ready  for  the  reaper,  and  acres  of  oats,  turning  to 
a  golden  yellow,  promised  a  rich  reward  to  the  till- 
ers of  the  soil. 

The  picturesque  Des  Moines  River  flowed  plac- 
idly by  his  side,  as  Allan  wended  his  way  along  its 
wooded  banks,  over  the  familiar  road  he  knew  so 
well. 

The  golden  sun  was  setting  in  the  West,  like  a 
crowned  monarch  retiring  for  the  day,  his  royal 
robes  adorning  the  horizon  with  a  glory  surpass- 
ing that  of  Solomon.  All  was  peace.  There  was 
peace  in  the  heavens  above  and  peace  on  the  earth 
beneath.  The  lovely,  modern  homes  of  the  pros- 
perous Iowa  farmers,  surrounded  by  lawns,  trees 
and  gardens,  spoke  of  peace  and  comfort. 

The  glad  cries  of  children,  as  they  followed  the 
cattle  home  to  the  stalls,  were  music  in  Allan's 
ears,  recalling  the  happiest  memories.  He  drew 
near  to  his  father's  farm.  How  happy  his  youth 
had  been !  What  a  peaceful  lot  was  that  of  his 
parents !  Had  he  not  acted  foolishly  himself  in 
leaving  the  farm?  How  mean  and  squalid  the 
strife  in  Wellington  was  compared  with  the  manly 
independence  of  a  farmer's  life ! 

"But  my  duty,"  reflected  Allan,  "is  to  be  an  am- 
bassador of  Christ  in  the  world.  His  Gospel  has 
created  this  happiness  and  prosperity  all  around 
me  here.  It  will  yet  fill  the  world  with  gladness, 
but  it  means  work  and  struggle  for  some  of  us 
before  the  victory  is  complete." 

Allan's  parents  lived  in  a  modern  home,  with  all 
conveniences.  The  house  was  heated  with  a  fur- 
nace and  lit  with  gas,  furnished  by  their  own  light- 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  137 

ing  plant.  Mail  was  delivered  every  day  ai  cheir 
gate  by  the  rural  mail'  service  of  the  Government, 
and  a  telephone  gave  instant  communication  with 
the  outside  world. 

The  farm  provided  a  steady  income,,  year  by 
year,  which  had  enabled  Mr.  and  Mr?.  Rutledge 
to  rear  a  family  with  every  advantage  and  them- 
selves enjoy  many  of  the  good  things  of  life. 

"What  was  John  Wesley  thinking  of  when  he 
wrote  about  the  misery  of  a  farmer's  life,"  said  Al- 
lan to  himself,  recalling  the  famous  passage  in 
Wesley's  "Journal,"  in  which  the  great  English 
preacher  says:  "In  the  little  journeys  which  I  have 
lately  taken  I  have  thought  much  on  the  huge  en- 
coniums  which  have  been  for  ages  bestowed  on  a 
country  life.  How  have  all  the  learned  world  cried 
out: 

'O  fortunati  nimium,  sua  si  bona  norint 
Agricolae.' 

"But,  after  all  what  a  contradiction  is  this 
to  universal  experience.  See  that  little  house,  un- 
der the  wood,  by  the  river  side.  This  is  rural  life 
in  perfection.  How  happy,  then,  is  the  farmer 
who  lives  there !  Let  us  take  a  detail  of  his  hap- 
piness. He  rises  with,  or  before,  the  sun,  calls 
his  servants,  looks  to  his  swine  and  cows,  then  to 
his  stables  and  barns.  He  sees  to  the  plowing  and 
sowing  of  his  ground,  in  winter  or  spring.  In 
summer  and  autumn  he  hurries  and  sweats  among 
ms  mowers  and  reapers.  And  where  is  his  happi- 
ness in  the  mean  time?  Which  of  these  employ- 


138  THE   VICTORY  OF 

ments  do  we  envy?  Or  do  we  envy  the  delicate 
repast  that  succeeds,  which  the  poet  so  languishes 
for? 

'Oh,   the  happiness   of  eating  beans  well   greased 

with  fat  bacon. 
Nay,  and  cabbage,  too.' 

"Was  Horace  in  his  senses  when  he  talked  thus, 
or  the  servile  herd  of  his  imitators?  Our  eyes  and 
ears  may  convince  us  there  is  not  a  less  happy 
body  of  men  in  all  England  than  the  country  farm- 
ers. In  general,  their  life  is  supremely  dull,  and 
it  is  usually  unhappy,  too.  For  of  all  the  people 
in  the  kingdom  they  are  most  discontented;  sel- 
dom satisfied  either  with  God  or  man." 

"The  English  farmers  of  Wesley's  day  may  have 
been  miserable,"  thought  Allan,  "but  in  this  Mid- 
dle West  the  farmer  is  king." 

He  opened  the  gate  quietly  and  walked  up  to 
the  front  door  of  his  old  home  and  knocked.  A 
big  dog  came  bounding  round  the  house  bark- 
ing, and  leaped  on  him  in  joy,  as  it  recognized  its 
former  master.  The  front  door  was  open,  but  the 
screen  was  hooked.  Allan  knocked  again,  and  his 
mother  appeared  in  the  room.  At  the  sight  of  her 
son  on  the  porch  she  gave  a  glad  cry  of  welcome. 

"Come  in,  my  boy,  come  in !  We  have  been 
longing  to  see  you.  Dick  has  been  telling  us  all 
about  your  trouble.  Come  in,  come  in !"  and  the 
good  mother  wept  with  her  arms  around  her 
preacher-son. 

"It  is  all  right,   mother,"   he    answered    gently, 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  139 

"things   are  coming  out  all  right.     I've    come    to> 
stay  three  weeks  with  you." 

As  his  brothers  and  sisters  came  in  to  greet  him, 
Allan  began  to  feel  the  power  of  the  old  home  to 
soothe  and  bless.  John  Howard  Payne's  immortal 
song  speaks  a  universal  truth: 

"  'Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home." 

Soon  his  father  hurried  in  from  the  yard  to  greet 
him.  "Welcome  back,  Allan!"  said  his  father. 
"How  goes  the  battle  in  Wellington?" 

"It  is  going  to  be  a  victory,  1  am  sure,  father," 
answered  his  son.  "But  let  us  not  mention  Well- 
ington any  more.  I  have  come  here  for  a  three 
weeks'  rest,  and  I  want  to  be  a  boy  again.  Treat 
me  just  as  you  did  when  I  came  back  from  col- 
lege for  my  vacations.  I  am  getting  old  too  fast. 
I  want  mother  to  hear  me  say  my  prayers  to- 
night, just  as  she  used  to  do  when  I  was  a  child." 

They  understood,  and  they  treated  Allan  as  one 
of  themselves  again.  He  breathed  in  the  peaceful 
atmosphere  of  the  farm.  His  tired  nerves  were 
rejuvenated.  His  old,  cheerful  spirit  returned. 
Everything  became  bright* 

But  an  unexpected  pleasure  suddenly  made  his 
visit  home  a  dream  of  happiness.  On  his  second 
day  on  the  farm  he  had  wandered  up  the  river's 
bank  for  a  couple  of  miles,  enjoying  the  fresh 
mprning  air  and  the  woodland  scenery,  filled  with 
memories  of  former  days.  He  was  approaching  a 
place  where  he  remembered  there  was  a  view  of 


140  THE   VICTORY  OF 

special  cagnificence  at  a  sweeping  bend  of  the 
river,  when  suddenly  he  found  out  he  was  not  en- 
joying the  beauties  of  the  Des  Moines  alone.  A 
fair,  girlish  form  was  standing  on  a  knoll  a  little 
in  front  of  him,  gazing  with  evident  delight  on  the 
long  vista  of  river,  woods  and  farms.  Hearing  his 
footsteps,  she  turned  quickly.  A  glad  cry  es- 
caped from  her  lips. 

"Allan,  Allan,  you  here!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Mabel !"  cried  Allan,  and  bounded  to  her  side. 

After  the  first  greetings  were  over  both  were 
somewhat  embarrassed.  Allan  was  the  first  to  re- 
cover himself. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Miss  Grayson?"  he 
asked. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Mr.  Rutledge?"  re- 
sponded the  girl. 

"I  live  here,"  said  Allan.  "Our  home  is  only 
two  miles  down  the  river." 

"Why,"  said  Mabel  Grayson,  in  astonishment, 
"I  thought  you  lived  miles  and  miles  from  this 
place.  This  is  a  delightful  spot.  A  party  of  us 
from  Des  Moines  are  camping  along  the  bank  of 
the  river  about  half  a  mile  away.  I  walked  over 
here  to  enjoy  the  view.  Come  and  see  our  camp," 
she  added. 

"I  am  home  for  a  three  weeks'  rest,"  said  Allan. 
"I  had  expected  to  have  a  splendid  time  on  the  old 
farm,  but  I  never  dreamed  of  seeing  you." 

They  walked  slowly  toward  the  camp,  talking 
over  many  things.  What  the  conversation  was 
about  did  not  seem  to  make  much  difference  witn 
Allan.  He  felt  satisfied  to  be  in  her  presence 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  141! 

again.  Knowing  intuitively  that  any  reference  to 
his  trouble  with  the  college  at  Wellington  would 
annoy  him,  she  thoughtfully  refrained  from  men- 
tioning Wellington,  except  incidentally. 

"Let  us  sit  down  here  a  while,"  said  Allan,  after 
they  had  gone  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  "and 
talk." 

"What  will   we  talk   about?"  asked  Mabel.     , 

"Tell  me  about  Mr.  Bryan's  visit  to  Des 
Moines,"  answered  Allan. 

Mabel  told  all  about  the  dinner  party  and  about 
the  lecture  of  the  far-famed  Nebraskan. 

"Mr.  Bryan  is  a  great  and  a  good  man,"  she  con- 
tinued. "Papa  and  he  do  not  agree  on  politics,  but 
papa  thinks  Mr.  Bryan  is  a  model  American  and  an 
earnest  Christian  man.  Did  you  ever  hear  him 
speak?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  Allan,  "I  have  heard  him  make  a 
political  address,  but  I  should  be  delighted  to  hear 
him  again,  especially  on  such  a  subject  as  the 
'Prince  of  Peace.'  " 

"It  was  truly  a  noble  tribute  to  our  King,"  said 
the  girl  reverently.  "I  shall  never  forget  the  thrill 
that,  went  through  his  vast  audience  that  night 
when  he  spoke  of  immortality.  I  learned  the  pass- 
age by  heart  the  next  day  from  the  newspaper  re- 
port. Here  it  is." 

With  a  far-away  look  in  her  eyes,  as  she  gazed 
across  the  river,  the  girl  repeated  Mr.  Bryan's 
noble  words  in  her  sweet  musical  voice,  while 
AUan  listened  with  rapt  attention: 

"  'If  the  Father  deigns  to  touch  with  divine 
power  the  cold  and  pulseless  heart  of  the  buried 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

acorn  and  to  make  it  burst  forth  from  its  prison 
walls,  will  he  leave  neglected  in  the  earth  the  soul 
of  man,  made  in  the  image  of  his  Creator?  If  he 
stoops  to  give  to  the  rosebush,  whose  withered 
blossoms  float  on  the  autumn  breeze,  the  sweet  as- 
surance of  another  springtime,  will  he  refuse  the 
words  of  hope  to  the  sons  of  men  when  the  frosts 
of  winter  come?  If  matter,  mute  and  inanimate, 
though  changed  by  the  forces  of  nature  into  a  mul- 
titude of  forms,  can  never  die,  will  the  spirit  of 
man  suffer  annihilation  when  it  has  paid  a  brief 
visit,  like  a  royal  guest,  to  this  tenement  of  clay? 
No,  I  am  as  sure  that  there  is  another  life  as  I 
am  that  I  live  to-day.' " 

Allan  was  happy.  He  could  nave  listened  all 
day  to  the  music  of  Mabel  Grayson's  voice. 

But,  as  she  finished  the  quotation,  the  girl 
jumped  to  her  feet,  saying:  "We  must  be  going, 
or  they  will  be  hunting  for  me  as  lost." 

And  they  walked  up  the  river's  bank  together  to 
the  camp. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  STORY  OF  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  AND 
ANN  RUTLEDGE. 

After  the  discovery  of  the  "camp"  on  the  banks 
of  the  river,  Allan  was  a  frequent  visitor,  and  soon 
became  very  popular  with  Mabel's  young  friends.  ^ 
He  knew  the  country  and  the  river  at  that  point  as 
only  a  native  can  know  a  place.  He  brought  up  a 
boat  from  his  father's,  and  put  it  at  the  service  of 
the  campers.  He  told  them  of  the  best  fishing 
spots  and  took  them  for  long  rambles  over  the 
countryside. 

One  morning  he  drove  up  to  the  camp  in  a 
buggy  and  handed  Mabel  an  invitation  from  his 
mother  to  spend  the  day  at  the  Rutledge  farm.  She 
was  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  meeting  Allan's 
family  and  accepted  at  once. 

Allan  had  a  sister,  Edith,  a  little  younger  than 
Mabel  Grayson,  who  had  spent  a  couple  of  years 
at  the  Normal  College  at  Cedar  Falls  and  was  now 
teaching  the  local  school.  Mabel  found  her  an  ex- 
ceptionally intelligent  and  pleasant  girl.  But  be- 
tween Mrs.  Rutledge  and  Mabel  there  was  a  bond 
of  affection  from  the  beginning.  They  had  heard 
a  good  deal  of  each  other  through  Allan,  and  the 
meeting  was  a  pleasure  to  both. 
&  Mrs.  Rutledge  superintended  in  the  kitchen  that 

143 


144  THE   VICTORY  OF 

morning,  and  the  dinner  was  a  credit  to  a  well  or- 
dered Iowa  farmhouse,  which  is  the  highest  kind 
of  compliment. 

After  the  hearty  dinner  was  over,  Mrs.  Rutledge 
and  Mabel  had  a  long  talk  together  in  the  parlor. 
During  this  conversation  Allan  was  mentioned 
quite  often,  and  once  Mabel  remarked  that  he  was 
a  great  admirer  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  often 
quoted  the  war  President  in  his  sermons. 

"He  would  not  be  a  Rutledge  if  he  did  not  ad- 
mire Abraham  Lincoln,"  said  Mrs.  Rutledge  in  re- 
ply. "Abraham  Lincoln  is  well  remembered  in  the 
life  story  of  the  Rutledge  family." 

"How  is  that?"  asked  Mabel,  very  much  inter- 
ested. 

"Did  you  never  hear  the  story  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln and  Ann  Rutledge?"  said  Allan's  mother,  in 
surprise. 

"I  must  have  forgotten  it  if  I  did,"  said  the  girl, 
with  a  blush. 

"The  world  doesn't  know  much  about  that  in- 
cident in  Lincoln's  life,"  went  on  the  good  lady. 
"Such  things  are  soon  forgotten,  but  the  influence 
of  Ann  Rutledge,  who  was  a  sister  of  Allan's 
grandpa,  was  one  of  the  forces  that  helped  to  make 
Lincoln  what  he  was." 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Mabel  eagerly,  and  Mrs. 
Rutledge  told  her  the  tender  story  of  Abraham 
Lincoln's  early  love. 

"I  often  heard  Allan's  grandpa  tell  it,"  Mrs.  Rut- 
ledge  began,  "and  I  never  tired  of  hearing  him 
speak  of  his  sweet  sister,  Ann.  He  used  to  tell 
how  Abraham  Lincoln  first  came  to  New  Salem 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  145 

in  Illinois,  in  the  early  thirties,  and  James  Rut- 
ledge,  his  father,  was  one  of  the  first  men  who  saw 
what  was  in  the  coming  President.  He  was  so 
lank  and  ungainly  that  some  thought  he  was  only 
a  lout,  but  James  Rutledge  that's  Allan's  great- 
grandfather, took  to  Lincoln  from  the  start.  Ann 
Rutledge  was  the  third  child,  and  she  grew  up  to 
be  a  girl  of  uncommon  beauty.  She  was  as  good 
as  she  was  beautiful.  In  all  that  country  there 
was  no  maid  like  Ann  Rutledge.  She  had  a  host 
of  admirers,  but  she  finally  chose  one,  called 
McNeil,  a  young  and  prosperous  trader  and 
farmer  of  New  Salem.  Soon  after  they  were  en- 
gaged to  be  married  Ann  had  a  terrible  shock. 
McNeil  told  her  that  he  had  been  living  under  a 
false  name.  His  real  name  was  McNamar  but  he 
had  changed  his  name  when  he  came  West,  as  he 
wanted  to  build  up  a  fortune  unknown  to  his  peo- 
ple in  the  East.  He  said  he  had  an  aged  father, 
and  that  he  wanted  to  sell  out  his  business  in  Illi- 
nois, and  go  back  to  take  care  of  him.  He  prom- 
ised to  return  and  wed  Ann,  who  had  given  him 
all  the  love  of  her  young  heart.  She  agreed  to 
await  his  return. 

"After  he  went  East  letters  came  for  some  time, 
but  they  came  less  and  less  frequently,  and  at  last 
ceased  altogether.  Ann  was  only  nineteen  at  this 
time,  and  I  have  heard  Allan's  grandpa  tell  how 
the  blow  of  McNamar's  treatment  soon  began  to 
tell  on  Ann's  health.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
Abraham  Lincoln  learned  to  love  her.  She  knew 
well  what  a  man  Lincoln  was,  and  it  grieved  her 
sore  that  she  was  bound  so  she  could  not  return 


146  THE   VICTORY  OF 

his  love.  At  last  she  told  him  all  about  her  false 
lover.  She  had  now  ceased  to  love  McNamar,  as 
she  could  not  love  a  man  who  had  proved  so  false, 
but  she  was  so  high  principled  that  she  felt  he 
must  release  her  before  she  could  enter  into  an- 
other engagement.  Finally,  she  yielded  to  Lin- 
coln's wooing,  and  became  betrothed,  though  she 
still  felt  that  the  other  lover  had  a  claim  on  her 
life. 

"When  Lincoln  knew  that  there  was  hope  that 
Ann  Rutledge  might  be  his  wife,  he  seemed  like  a 
new  man.  He  took  up  the  work  of  life  with  new 
vigor.  Never  was  he  so  happy,  before  or  after, 
as  during  those  days  when  he  was  looking  forward 
to  an  early  marriage  with  the  noble  and  beautiful 
girl,  who  had  now  given  him  her  affection.  It 
was  at  this  time  that  he  entered  the  State  Legisla- 
ture, and  began  that  political  career  which  ended 
in  the  White  House." 

Mabel  was  listening  intently,  as  the  old  lady  re- 
called the  scenes  of  the  past.  Her  eye  was  moist 
in  sympathy  with  the  sorrow-riven  heart  of  the 
gentle  Ann. 

"Did  they  ever  hear  of  McNamar  again?"  she 
asked. 

"I  remember  how  grandpa  would  boil,"  an- 
swered Allan's  mother,  "as  we  mentioned  the  name 
of  that  faithless  lover.  He  really  killed  Ann. 
They  never  cared  to  know  anything  about  him. 
Poor  Ann  had  an  affection  for  Lincoln.  She  al- 
ways called  him  'Abraham.'  not  'Abe,'  as  the  rest 
did.  But  she  was  a  highly  sensitive  girl,  and  the 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  147 

long  strain  about  McNamar  was  too  much.  Her 
health  began  to  fail.  Her  friends  could  see  her 
droop.  But  Lincoln  refused  to  believe  that  the 
light  of  his  life  was  to  go  out  so  soon.  At  last  she 
sent  for  him  and  they  talked  together  alone  for  a 
long  time.  No  one  ever  knew  just  what  passed 
between  them,  but  when  Lincoln  left  the  house 
that  day  he  knew  she  was  going,  and  he  never  was 
the  same  man  again.  Before  that  he  was  always 
calm  and  self-controlled,  but  his  whole  soul  seemed 
to  collapse  before  the  coming  blow." 

Mabel  listened  with  tear-filled  eyes,  but  she  did 
not  interrupt,  and  Mrs.  Rutledge  kept  on : 

"On  the  25th  of  August,  1835,  Ann  Rutledge 
died,  but  she  never  died  out  of  Lincoln's  heart.  He 
never  forgot  her,  but  in  her  grave  was  buried  his 
last  hope  of  ever  knowing  the  joy  of  a  satisfied 
heart.  His  grief  at  the  time  was  terrible  to  wit- 
ness. I  well  remember,  when  I  was  a  girl,  I  have 
heard  grandpa  tell  of  it,  and  he  would  cry  himself, 
as  he  told  of  poor  Lincoln's  agony.  Lincoln  used 
to  moan  piteously,  'I  never  can  be  reconciled  to 
have  the  snow,  rain  and  storms  beat  upon  her 
grave.'  It  was  feared  for  a  while  that  he  would  lose 
his  reason.  They  used  to  watch  him,  so  that  he 
might  not  be  allowed  to  injure  himself.  After  a 
few  weeks  he  got  better,  and  began  to  work  again, 
but  he  was  like  a  man  in  despair.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  he  learned  those  verses  that  people  al- 
^yays  associate  with  his  name.  Grandpa  told  us 
how  he  would  sit  by  himself  and  say  over  and 
over  again  those  sad  lines: 


148  THE   VICTORY  OF 

'Oh,  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud? 
Like  a  swift  fleeting  meteor  a  fast  flying  cloud 
A  flash  of  the  lightning,  a  break  of  the  wave, 
He  passeth  from  life  to  the  rest  of  the  grave. 

'The  leaves  of  the  oak  and  the  willow  shall  fade, 

Be  scattered  around  and  together  be  laid, 

And  the  young  and  the  old,  and  the  low  and  the 

high, 
Shall   molder  to   dust  and  together   shall   lie.' 

"He  could  not  mention  the  name  of  his  lost 
love,"  continued  Mrs.  Rutledge,  "but  he  would 
break  down  and  cry.  When  Allan  was  a  little 
fellow  his  grandpa  was  an  old  man,  but  Allan 
used  to  like  to  hear  the  story.  Allan  has  always 
felt  as  though  Lincoln  was  related  to  him.  It  has 
had  an  influence  on  the  boy's  life  in  more  ways 
than  one.  Grandpa  felt  nearly  as  bad  as  Lincoln 
about  the  death  of  his  lovely  sister  Ann,  and  he 
used  to  say  he  wanted  to  live  so  that  Ann  would 
never  be  ashamed  of  him  when  they  met  in  the 
better  world.  I  will  always  believe  that  Abraham 
Lincoln  owed  a  great  deal  to  the  memory  of  that 
pure,  beautiful,  heart-broken  girl,  who  won  his 
great  heart  when  he  was  an  unknown  young  man 
at  New  Salem." 

"It  was  sad,  wasn't  it?"  said  Mabel. 

"I  was  back  in  Illinois,"  responded  Mrs.  Rut- 
ledge,  "some  years  ago,  and  I  went  to  look  at  Ann 
Rutledge's  grave.  Only  a  simple  stone  with  her 
name  marks  the  spot.  It  is  so  different  from  Lin- 
coln's grand  tomb  in  Springfield,  but  I  know  well 
that  if  Lincoln  had  his  wish  Ann  would  have  had 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  149 

the  marble  masouleum,  and  for  her  sake  he  would 
have  been  content  with  a  simple  headstone.  It's 
a  sad  story,"  concluded  Allan's  mother,  "and  per- 
haps I  should  not  have  told  it  to  you,  for  you  are 
so  young  and  happy." 

"Thank  you  very  much  for  telling  me  the  story. 
I  shall  always  remember  Ann  Rutledge.  I  know 
now  why  Allan  reveres  Lincoln's  memory." 

"Come  down  from  Des  Moines  some  time,"  said 
Mrs.  Rutledge,  as  Mabel  left  for  the  "camp"  in 
the  evening,  "and  visit  with  us  for  a  week  or  two. 
Edith  and  all  of  us  will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

Mabel  promised  to  make  a  visit  at  corn  gather- 
ing time,  and  she  and  Allan  drove  up  the  river 
road. 

"What  a  lovely  home  you  have,"  Mabel  said, 
after  a  silence.  "I  do  not  know  when  I  have  en- 
joyed myself  so  much  as  to-day.  Your  mother 
told  me  the  story  of  Ann  Rutledge.  Wasn't  it 
sad?  Poor  Ann!  Yet  I  think,  as  your  mother 
says,  her  influence  was  one  of  the  forces  that 
molded  Lincoln  into  the  man  that  he  was." 

"Life  is  a  strange  jumble  sometimes.  Isn't  it?" 
remarked  Allan. 

"Yes,  but  do  you  notice,  Mr.  Rutledge,  that  all 
things  work  for  good,  and  even  the  tragedy  of  Ann 
Rutledge's  life  wrought  for  the  blessing  of  the 
world." 

"I  am  beginning  to  see  that  truth  more  clearly 
than  ever  before,"  answered  Allan  "we  know  it 
must  be  so,  but  often  Providence  has  been  mys- 
terious to  me." 

"They  have  lit  a  big  camp  fire  to-night,"  cried 


150  THE   VICTORY  OF 

Mabel,  as  a  bend  in  the  road  showed  a  gleaming 
fire  at  the  camp.  "Stay  with  us  for  a  while,  Mr. 
Rutledge,  and  we  will  have  some  camp  fire  mus- 
ings." 

Allan  did  not  need  a  second  invitation.  When 
they  were  seated  in  a  ring  around  the  blazing  fire, 
Allan  was  asked  for  a  story. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  Pat  and  Bridget's  wed- 
ding?" asked  Allan. 

"No,  tell  us  about  it,"  they  cried  in  a  chorus. 

"It  was  the  wedding  day  of  Pat  and  Bridget," 
began  Allan,  "and  they  were  having  a  church  wed- 
ding. It  was  a  grand  affair.  Pat  was  dressed 
with  patent  leather  shoes,  white  vest  and  flaming 
tie.  Bridget  was  arrayed  in  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  After  the  interesting  ceremony  was 
over,  and  the  happy  pair  walked  down  the  aisle 
and  out  into  the  street,  a  great  crowd  looked  on 
with  delight.  The  occasion  was  an  important  one, 
and  Bridget  felt  her  dignity  to  the  full.  When 
they  had  reached  the  waiting  cab,  and  were  seated 
within,  Bridget  leaned  over  to  Pat  and  said,  in  a 
loud  whisper:  "Och,  Pat,  if  we  could  only  have 
stood  on  the  sidewalk  and  watched  ourselves  pass, 
wouldn't  it  have  been  hivin?' ''' 

There  were  shouts  of  laughter  and  calls  for  an- 
other story,  but  Allan  called  on  Mabel  for  a  song. 

"Give  us  one  of  Burns'  songs,"  he  requested. 

The  surroundings  were  romantic.  The  dark 
woods  were  lit  up  with  a  weird  glare  from  the  fire. 
The  waters  of  the  Des  Moines  River  were  mur- 
muring by  their  sides.  The  fitful  flames  of  the 
burning  logs  played  on  the  gay  faces  of  the  happy 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  151 

young  people.  Two  elderly  people,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Heron,  of  Des  Moines,  were  the  chaperons  of  the 
party,  and  they  were  seated  at  the  door  of  their 
tent.  There  were  two  other  large  sleeping  tents, 
a  dining  room  tent  and  a  kitchen  tent.  It  was  a 
striking  picture,  reminding  one  of  Indian  life  in 
bygone  days. 

"I  will  sing  'Ye  Banks  and  Braes  o'  Bonnie 
Doon,'  if  you  like,"  said  Mabel. 

"Yes!  yes!"  all  cried. 

Mabel  stood  up  beside  the  fire  to  sing.  As  her 
sweet,  rich  voice  rose  in  the  night  air,  a  spell 
seemed  to  come  over  the  company,  and  she  sang, 
with  deep  feeling,  the  pathetic  song  of  Scotland's 
poet.  She  was  thinking  of  Ann  Rutledge  and  her 
sad  story  as  she  sang,  and  Allan  knew  it  well. 
Never  were  the  words  of  this  Scottish  song  ren- 
dered more  effectively  than  that  night  on  the  Des 
Moines. 

"Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon, 
How  can  ye  bloom  sae  fresh  and  fair? 
How  can  ye  chant,  ye  little  birds, 
And  I  sae  weary,  fu'  o'  care? 

"Thou'lt  break  my  heart,  thou  warbling  bird, 
That  wantons  through  the  flowering  thorn; 
Thou  minds  me  o'  departed  joys, 
Departed — never  to  return. 


"Wi'  lightsome  heart  I  pu'd  a  rose, 
Fu'  sweet  upon  its  thorny  tree; 
And  my  fause  lover  stole  my  rose, 
But  ah,  he  left  the  thorn  wi'  me." 


152   THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 

There  was  a  silence  as  she  ceased,  broken  only 
by  the  gentle  murmurs  of  the  river's  waters  and 
the  crackling  of  the  camp  fire. 

Then  Mabel's  mood  changed.  She  began  to 
sing  merrily  the  old  favorite,  "Good  Night,  La- 
dies." They  all  joined  hands  in  a  large  circle 
around  the  dying  fire,  and  dancing  around  the  flick- 
ering glare,  like  sylvan  elves,  they  sang  in  heart- 
iest notes  together: 

"Good    night,    ladies;    good    night,    ladies;    good 

night,  ladies; 

We're  going  to  leave  you  now. 
Farewell,  ladies;  farewell,  ladies;  farewell,  ladies; 
We're  going  to  leave  you  now. 
Sweet  dreams,  ladies;  sweet  dreams,  ladies;  sweet 

dreams,  ladies; 

We're  going  to  leave  you  now. 
Merrily  we  roll  along,  over  the  dark  blue  sea." 

Allan  drove  home  that  night  with  his  whole  soul 
reveling  in  "sweet  dreams." 


"'HOW   CAN   YE   CHANT,  YE   LI  rTt,E   BIRDS.  AND   I   SAE   WEARY, 

FU'  o'  CARE.'' — Page  152. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  WELLINGTON  CHAUTAUQUA. 

When  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  stepped  off  the  train 
at  Wellington  on  his  return  from  his  vacation  on 
the  old  farm  he  was  like  a  new  man.  It  did  not 
seem  possible  that  this  tanned,  care-free  athlete 
was  the  same  pale,  care-worn  preacher  who  had 
left  Wellington  just  three  weeks  before.  He 
looked  five  years  younger  and  he  had  the  step  of 
a  conquerer  as  he  walked  up  the  street  to  his 
home.  The  cordial  greetings  given  him  on  every 
hand  added  to  his  pleasure  in  arriving  once  more 
at  the  scene  of  his  task  in  life. 

The  Wellington's  Chautauqua  was  in  full  blast 
on  his  return,  and  the  next  day  he  was  to  appear 
on  the  program  and  deliver  a  lecture  on  "Interna- 
tional Peace."  He  spent  a  good  part  of  the  inter- 
vening time  in  preparation  for  this  address,  and 
did  not  go  out  to  the  Chautauqua  grounds  until 
the  following  day  at  the  hour  when  he  was  to  ap- 
pear on  the  platform.  The  Chautauquas  of  the 
Middle  West  are  among  its  most  picturesque 
features  in  the  summer  time.  The  AVellington 
Chautauqua  was  famed  as  one  of  the  largest  in 
the  State  of  Iowa.  A  monster  tent  had  been 
Erected  in  a  shady  grove,  near  the  college,  and 

153 


154  THE   VICTORY  OF 

around  this  big  tent  a  little  white  city  had  arisen, 
in  which  were  camping  a  large  number  of  the  citi- 
zens and  also  farmers  from  throughout  the  coun- 
try. 

The  whole  community  united  in  the  enterprise, 
and  this  common  social  life  for  about  eight  or  ten 
days  brought  all  classes  together.  Bohemians 
were  camped  beside  Englishmen,  and  old-time 
Yankees  were  surrounded  by  tents,  in  which  lived 
Germans,  Frenchmen,  Irishmen,  Swedes  and  other 
nationalities  which  make  up  the  throbbing,  vigor- 
ous life  of  the  West. 

In  the  large  Chautauqua  tent  a  varied  program 
was  given  daily,  lasting  from  morning  until  late  at 
night,  during  the  week  or  ten  days  of  the  gather- 
ing. Colored  minstrels  sang.  Cartoonists  and 
lightning  artists  drew  pictures  on  the  stage. 
Prominent  Congressmen  and  Senators  lectured  on 
all  kinds  of  subjects.  Reformers  made  addresses, 
and  bell-ringers,  orchestras  and  bands  added  to 
the  variety  of  the  entertainment  and  to  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  assembled  thousands.  During  the  Sab- 
bath days  popular  religious  services  were  held,  and 
preachers  of  international  reputation  delivered  re- 
ligious discourses. 

Everyone  of  the  three  thousand  seats  in  the  big 
Chautauqua  tent  was  occupied,  and  hundreds  were 
standing  around  the  edges  of  the  tent,  when  Allan 
mounted  the  platform  to  give  his  lecture.  It  was 
the  first  time  that  the  majority  of  the  people  had 
seen  him  since  his  return,  and  the  greeting  was 
tremendous.  The  thousands  rose  as  one  man, 
cheering  and  waving  handkerchiefs.  When  the 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  155 

tumult  had  subsided,  Allan  began  in  a  quiet  way 
and  introduced  his  subject  to  the  audience. 

About  the  middle  of  the  tent  sat  Grace  Markley 
by  the  side  of  her  mother.  When  she  saw  Allan 
stride  to  the  front  of  the  platform,  with  health  and 
vigor  in  his  every  movement  and  power  in  his 
whole  bearing,  she  was  delighted  to  see  how  much 
his  vacations  had  revived  him.  And  when  she  saw 
the  crowded  audience  rise  in  its  enthusiastic  greet- 
ing her  joy  knew  no  bounds.  "Mr.  Rutledge  has 
won,"  she  said  to  herself. 

"There  are  two  kinds  of  people  who  do  not  ap- 
prove of  war,"  said  the  speaker,  as  he  went  on 
in  his  lecture.  "There  are  some  who  are  like  the 
Irishman  who  had  enlisted  in  the  army  in  a  spirit 
of  adventure,  but  when  his  regiment  marched  into 
battle  Pat  apparently  made  up  his  mind  very 
quickly  that  he  did  not  approve  of  war — at  least 
for  himself — and  so  he  retreated  to  the  rear  with- 
out waiting  for  orders.  His  commanding  officer 
called  him  into  his  presence  later  on  and  demanded 
what  he  meant  by  retreating  to  the  rear  without 
orders,  as  soon  as  the  action  began.  'Your  honor,' 
said  Erin's  son,  T  have  a  heart  in  me  as  brave  as 
the  heart  of  Julius  Csesar,  but  I  can't  foight, 
gineral,  for  when  the  action  begins  me  cowardly 
legs  run  away  with  me.' " 

Loud  laughter  here  interrupted  the  speaker,  for 
a  Chautauqua  audience  is  always  in  good  humor, 
and  before  Allan  could  resume  Pat  McGinnis,  who 
A^as  seated  near  the  front,  yelled  out:  "Your  rivir- 
ince,  that  man  wasn't  an  Oirishman.  He  was  a 
Russian."  Again  the  audience  laughed. 


156  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"I  stand  corrected,"  said  Allan  smilingly.  "I  al- 
ways thought  that  soldier  did  not  act  like  an  Irish- 
man, although  he  talked  like  one." 

Great  applause  greeted  this  happy  remark,  and 
the  audience  was  now  enraptured  with  the 
speaker. 

"But  there  are  a  rapidly  growing  number  in  our 
day,"  went  on  Allan  earnestly,  "who  do  not  ap- 
prove of  war  because  they  look  upon  it  as  irra- 
tional, barbarous  and  wicked  on  the  part  of  Chris- 
tian nations  when  settling  disputes  among  them- 
selves. The  growing  spirit  of  humanity  and  jus- 
tice, and  the  widespread  teachings  of  the  Prince 
of  Peace  in  the  world,  are  changing  the  opinions 
of  men  in  regard  to  this  method  of  settling  dis- 
putes among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  The  reign 
of  international  peace  is  no  irridescent  dream/' 
proclaimed  the  lecturer.  "Practical  men  like  An- 
drew Carnegie,  and  leading  statesman,  like  Theo- 
dore Roosevelt,  and  James  Bryce,  of  England,  are 
ardent  advocates  of  this  all-important  reform. 
Tennyson,  as  he  dipped  into  the  future,  sang  of  a 
time  when 

'The  war  drum  would  throb  no  longer 
And  the  battle  flag  be  furled, 
In  a  Parliament  of  Man, 
A  Federation  of  the  world.' 

Tennyson's  dream  will  become  a  reality." 

"The  worst  thing  about  war,"  said  Allan,  grow- 
ing more  and  more  enthusiastic,  and  carrying  his 
audience  with  him  in  the  fervency  of  his  eloquence, 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  157 

"is  not  the  loss  of  wealth  that  it  entails,  making  it 
necessary  for  the  weary  toilers  of  humanity  to 
spend  their  strength  for  years  in  creating  wealth 
that  is  poured  out  like  water  in  a  war  of  a  few 
weeks'  duration. 

"The  worst  thing  about  war  is  not  the  carnage 
on  the  battlefield,  the  awful  agonies  of  the  wound- 
ed, the  men  maimed  for  life,  the  widowed  mothers 
and  orphaned  children,  terrible  as  all  this  is.  The 
worst  thing  about  war  is  that  it  is  virtually  a  denial 
of  reason,  an  insult  to  justice  and  a  proclamation 
by  men  that  in  this  world  of  God's,  might  makes 
right.  Abraham  Lincoln  once  said,  'Nothing  is 
ever  settled  until  it  is  settled  right,'  and  Abraham 
Lincoln  spoke  the  truth.  If  two  nations  have  a 
dispute,  and  they  appeal  to  war  as  a  method  of  set- 
tling this  dispute,  the  stronger  nation  may  crush 
the  weaker,  but  that  does  not  prove  that  the 
stronger  nation  was  right.  War  is  a  proper  method 
for  tigers  and  dogs  to  use  in  settling  their  disputes 
in  the  jungle  and  in  the  barnyard,  but  among  civ- 
ilized and  Christian  men  war  is  barbarous  and 
monstrous.  Among  ren  it  is  not  war  that  set- 
tles things.  It  is  JUSTICE." 

As  Allan  pealed  out  these  last  words,  his  voice 
was  like  the  sound  of  many  waters.  His  argu- 
ment struck  home.  The  appeal  to  justice  aroused 
a  common  feeling  in  the  breasts  of  the  various  na- 
tionalities in  his  audience.  A  simultaneous  burst 
of  deafening  applause  broke  out  all  over  the  crowd. 
Jijitice  is  a  platform  broad  enough  to  include  all 
the  nations  of  men,  and,  standing  on  this  platform, 
men  can  respect  themselves  and  one  another. 


158  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"There  are  some  here,  I  expect,"  went  on  Allan, 
toward  the  close  of  his  address,  "who  are  wonder- 
ing about  the  actual  realization  of  international 
peace  through  an  International  Arbitration  Court. 
It  is  true  that  back  of  every  court  of  justice  in  the 
world,  as  it  is  to-day,  there  must  be  the  policeman 
to  uphold  the  decisions  of  the  court.  And  back  of 
this  International  Arbitration  Court  there  would 
need  be  an  international  police  force  to  uphold  its 
decisions  among  the  nations  of  the  world.  But 
the  organization  of  this  international  police  force 
is  going  to  be  easily  solved,"  continued  Allan, 
looking  at  Pat  McGinnis  with  a  smile.  "We  can 
get  all  the  policemen  we  need  at  any  time,  for  Ire- 
land is  ready  to  put  in  a  bid  to  supply  them  all." 

Like  all  experienced  Chautauqua  orators,  Allan 
well  knew  the  value  of  a  little  humor  in  such  an 
address  as  his..  At  this  sally  Pat  McGinnis  led 
them  all  in  hearty  laughter.  Allan  concluded  his 
powerful  message  with  a  glowing  tribute  to  the 
United  States  of  America  as  the  nation  having  in 
its  hands  to-day  the  destiny  of  the  world. 

"One  of  America's  duties  to  humanity  at  this 
hour  is  the  inauguration  of  a  movement  which  will 
forever  drive  out  the  horrors,  brutality  and  un- 
reason of  war  and  militarism  from  among  men, 
and  bring  in  an  era  of  international  peace. 

"'Let  woe  and  waste  of  warfare  cease, 
That  useful  labor  yet  may  build 
Its  homes  with  love  and  laughter  fillled. 

God,   give   thy  wayward   children   peace." 

The   stillness  of  a   summer's   eve  was   over  the 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  159 

audience  for  a  moment  when  Allan  had  ceased. 
Then  once  more  the  people  rose  and  cheered  to  the 
echo  the  message  and  the  man. 

When  Allan  went  around  the  Chautauqua 
grounds  that  afternoon,  he  was  greeted  on  every 
hand  with  the  utmost  cordiality.  Dr.  Lucas  and 
Deacon  Stanford  were  among  the  first  to  con- 
gratulate him  on  his  magnificent  lecture,  and  also 
on  his  improved  appearance. 

"Doctor,"  said  Allan  laughingly  to  Dr.  Lucas, 
"your  pills  are  all  right,  but  there  is  no  medicine 
for  me  like  the  old  farm." 

"That  is  the  remark  of  a  wise  physician,"  an- 
swered the  doctor. 

Grace  Markley  was  also  one  of  the  first  to  speak 
to  him  and  tell  him  of  her  pleasure  in  seeing  him 
look  so  strong  and  well. 

"I  knew  that  a  rest  was  all  you  needed,"  she 
added. 

"I  had  a  glorious  time,"  responded  Allan,  with  a 
joy  in  his  eye  which  did  not  escape  Grace's  obser- 
vation. "Your  cousin,  Miss  Grayson,  was  camp- 
ing, along  with  some  Des  Moines  friends,  about 
two  miles  from  our  home  and  we  had  a  most  de- 
lightful time." 

He  was  about  to  leave  the  grounds,  when  some- 
thing altogether  unexpected  happened.  Walking 
along  alone,  he  met  President  Older  and  Professor 
Gilrnan  face  to  face.  Allan  had  not  met  the  pro- 
fessor since  that  eventful  night  when  he  had 
ejected  him  from  the  room  in  the  college.  Presi- 
oent  Older  bowed  coldly,  but  the  professor  turned 
his  head  the  other  way. 


160  THE   VICTORY   OF 

Allan  was  now  altogether  himself  again,  and, 
thinking  that  it  was  right  he  should  offer  terms 
of'  reconciliation  to  the  college  people,  he  stopped 
in  front  of  them. 

"How  are  you,  Dr.  Older?"  said  the  minister, 
holding  out  his  hand. 

The  college  president  ignored  Allan's  hand,  and 
said  frigidly:  "Quite  as  well  as  usual,  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge." 

Without  paying  further  attention  to  the  minis- 
ter, both  of  them  were  passing  on,  when  Allan 
turned  to  President  Older  and  said,  with  great 
earnestness :  "Dr.  Older,  I  am  desirous  of  healing 
the  breach  between  the  college  and  the  church  in 
Wellington.  The  unseemly  strife  is  hurting  the 
cause  of  the  kingdom  of  God  here,  for  which  both 
institutions  exist.  Can  we  not  let  bygones  be  by- 
gones, and  all  of  us  commence  anew  after  vacation, 
working  together  for  our  common  cause." 

"The  church  and  the  college  will  work  together 
after  you  have  resigned  and  not  before,"  said  the 
president  with  a  sneer.  "We  expect  the  breach  to 
be  healed  soon,  but  it  can  only  be  healed  in  one 
way." 

The  dark  eyes  of  Allan  Rutledge  gleamed  like 
fire  as  he  noticed  the  sneering  tone  of  the  educa- 
tor, but,  controlling  himself,  he  made  one  more 
effort. 

"President  Older,"  he  answered  slowly  and 
thoughtfully,  as  though  weighing  every  word,  "you 
can  see  for  yourself  that  the  community  approves 
of  my  ministry  in  Wellington.  I  am  human  and 
I  make  mistakes,  as  men  always  have  done  and 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  161 

always  will  do,  but  the  church  and  community 
accept  me  as  God's  minister  in  spite  of  my  failings. 
With  me  the  voice  of  my  people  is  the  voice  of 
God.  I  am  in  Wellington  to  remain,  and  I  offer 
you  this  opportunity  for  reconciliation." 

"When  we  need  advice  from  you,  Rutledge," 
broke  in  Professor  Gilman,  who  had  been  listen- 
ing to  Allan  with  a  dark  frown  of  hatred,  "we  will 
ask  it.  You  have  shown  us  what  you  are  and  we 
want  no  more  of  you." 

With  a  burst  of  righteous  indignation,  such  as 
Paul  showed  toward  Elymas  in  Cyprus,  Allan 
turned  on  the  professor,  who  drew  back  with  a 
start. 

"I  showed  the  community  what  you  are,  sir," 
said  Allan,  with  blazing  eye.  "I  was  not  address- 
ing you;  I  was  speaking  to  the  president  of  the 
college.  Pray  be  good  enough  to  allow  us  the 
privilege  of  an  interview." 

The  professor  skulked  off  in  confusion,  and  Al- 
lan again  turned  to  Dr.  Older. 

"I  am  deeply  in  earnest  about  this  matter,  doc- 
tor. It  has  meant  a  good  deal  for  me  to  come  to 
you  in  this  way,  but  I  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  do 
this  in  the  spirit  of  a  Christian.  I  offer  you  again 
this  opportunity  to  reconcile  the  church  and  the 
college  without  further  damage  to  the  cause  of 
Christ  in  Iowa.  Will  you  accept  it?" 

President  Older  hesitated.  He  had  just  seen  the 
influence  that  Allan  had  gained  over  the  com- 
munity in  the  reception  they  had  given  him  in  the 
Chautauqua  tent.  No  other  speaker  had  aroused 
an  equal  enthusiasm.  He  well  knew  Allan's  force 


162  THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

as  a  speaker,  his  record  as  a  student,  and  he  was 
convinced  that  he  was  a  young  man  of  intense  zeal 
for  the  religion  he  professed  and  preached.  To 
drive  such  a  man  out  of  his  pulpit  meant  a  battle. 
In  spite  of  the  influence  of  the  leaders  of  the 
church  in  Iowa  he  was  well  aware  that  many  of 
the  rank  and  file  of  the  Iowa  ministry  were  on  Al- 
lan's side  openly. 

But  Dr.  Older  thought  of  Elder  Markley.  He 
thought  of  the  minister's  jealous  fellow-pastors  in 
the  State,  who  were  already  rejoicing  in  his  appar- 
ently imminent  downfall,  and  had  promised  their 
assistance  at  the  convention.  He  remembered  that 
the  whole  program  in  regard  to  the  "Rutledge  mat- 
ter" had  been  outlined,  and  that  to  change  his  pol- 
icy now  would  alienate  some  of  his  former  friends. 

"There  are  more  concerned  in  this  matter  than 
myself,"  he  replied,  at  length.  "Only  on  one  con- 
dition can  the  church  and  the  college  in  Welling- 
ton work  in  harmony  again.  You  must  resign." 

"Doctor,"  replied  Allan,  "if  you  decide  to  es- 
pouse the  side  of  the  church  in  this  matter,  all 
other  opposition  falls  to  the  ground.  You  alone 
give  it  strength." 

"I  have  begun  this  fight  on  you,"  said  the  college 
lege  president,  "and  I  am  going  to  carry  it  to  a 
finish,"  and  there  was  a  ring  of  vindictiveness  in 
his  voice. 

"Dr.  Older,"  said  Allan,  and  there  was  a  tremble 
in  his  voice,  "that  is  not  religion.  But  be  it  so," 
he  added  sadly.  "Later  on  some  day  you  will  re- 
member that  I  offered  you  peace  and  that  you 
chose  war." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  MIDNIGHT  ALARM. 

"Toot,  toot,  too-oo-oo-oo-oot." 

The  piercing  cry  of  the  fire  alarm  startled  the 
midnight  air  in  Wellington  the  night  after  the 
Chautauqua  had  closed. 

"Too-oo-oot,   too-oo-oo-oot." 

Allan  Rutledge  awoke  and  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Fire,  fire !"  someone  yelled  in  the  street  below, 
and  he  could  see  the  lurid  reflection  of  flames  on 
his  bedroom  wall.  He  rushed  to  the  window,  and 
saw  that  the  fire  was  blazing  not  more  than  a 
block  away.  Hastily  dressing  himself,  Allan  ran  in 
the  direction  of  the  burning  house.  A  crowd  was 
fast  collecting.  People  were  hurrying,  many  of 
them  only  half-dressed,  along  the  street.  In  a  city 
like  Wellington  a  fire  is  a  most  dreaded  enemy. 
The  frame  buildings  burn  like  tinder  if  a  blaze  gets 
well  started.  Whole  towns  have  been  swept  out 
of  existence  in  a  single  night  by  the  devouring 
flames.  Wellington  had  a  volunteer  fire  depart- 
ment. The  city  owned  two  hose  carts,  with  hook 
and  ladder  combination,  and  a  chemical  engine. 
Two  horses  were  kept  in  constant  readiness,  and 
tjie  driver  slept  at  the  fire  house,  but  the  firemen 
were  citizens  who  had  volunteered  their  services. 

163 


164  THE   VICTORY  OF 

At  the  sound  of  the  fire  alarm  these  volunteers  re- 
ported at  the  fire  house  as  quickly  as  possible. 
When  a  fire  alarm  is  turned  in  the  telephone  opera- 
tor at  "central"  also  connects  the  homes  of  all  the 
firemen  and  sends  out  a  general  call,  supplement- 
ing the  notice  which  the  fire  whistle  gives. 

"It  is  old  Abe  Daniels'  house!  The  roof  is  on 
fire !"  Allan  heard  someone  shout. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  joined  the  growing 
crowd  around  the  burning  building.  It  was  Mr. 
Daniels'  house,  and  Allan  saw  the  old  man  and 
his  wife  emerge  from  the  hall  door  as  he  ran  up. 
They  were  only  half-dressed  and  much  excited. 
Mrs.  Daniels  was  at  once  taken  charge  by  some 
women  neighbors,  who  had  been  aroused  by  the 
dreaded  alarm,  but  the  old  man  rushed  in  a  frenzy 
among  the  crowd,  shouting,  "Put  it  out,  put  it 
out !"  The  clang  of  a  bell  was  heard  and  the  sharp 
reports  of  galloping  horses.  The  fire  department 
was  coming  at  full  speed.  The  fire  was  confined 
to  one  side  of  the  roof  evidently  started  by  defec- 
tive electric  light  wiring.  The  glare  of  the  burn- 
ing shingles  lit  up  the  surrounding  houses  with  a 
weird  gleam.  The  foaming  steeds  of  the  firemen 
dashed  up  to  the  curb.  Men  leaped  from  the  fire 
wagon,  and  began  uncoiling  the  hose  with  light- 
ning-like rapidity,  rushing  with  one  end  of  it  to 
the  stand-pipe  at  the  street  corner.  Others  took 
the  long  ladders  and  placed  them  in  position,  so 
that  the  fire-fighters  could  ascend  to  the  roof,  and 
"battle  with  the  enemy  at  close  quarters.  There 
was  a  roofed  upper  porch  on  the  side  of  the  build- 
ing remote  from  the  flames,  and  the  fire  chief  at 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  165 

once  directed  a  ladder  to  be  placed  there,  as  the 
flat  roof  of  the  upper  porch  would  give  a  safe  van- 
tage ground  from  which  to  drench  the  burning 
roof.  The  ladder  was  hastily  raised  and  a  fireman, 
who  was  no  other  than  Louis  Antoine,  the  Bohe- 
mian helper  in  the  paint  shop,  darted  up,  carrying 
the  nozzle  of  the  hose.  He  was  quickly  followed 
by  the  fire  chief,  who  also  caught  the  heavy  rub- 
ber hose,  and  was  helping  to  carry  it  to  the  roof. 
The  weight  of  the  hose  on  one  side  of  the  ladder 
caused  it  to  veer  a  little  to  one  side.  In  their 
haste  the  ladder  had  not  been  placed  exactly 
straight,  and  it  began  to  slip.  Louis  Antoine  was 
already  near  the  top  of  the  ladder,  and  the  fire 
chief  was  halfway  up,  when  the  cry  was  raised, 
"The  ladder's  falling,  the  ladder's  falling!" 

The  women  in  the  crowd  shrieked  in  terror. 
Allen  was  standing  close  to  the  house,  beside  Mr. 
Daniels,  when  the  cry  was  raised.  He  instinctive- 
ly clutched  the  old  man  and  drew  back  with  all 
speed.  He  was  not  a  moment  too  soon.  With  a 
crash  the  ladder  fell,  striking  the  very  spot  where 
he  and  Mr.  Daniels  had  stood,  and  carrying  with 
it  the  unfortunate  Bohemian.  The  fire  chief  had 
jumped  and  partly  saved  himself,  but  he  lay  groan- 
ing and  helpless  on  the  ground.  His  leg  was 
broken.  Allan  and  some  others  rushed  forward  to 
pick  up  Antoine.  He  was  unconscious.  As  he  fell 
the  ladder  had  struck  him,  and  he  was  evidently 
very  seriously  injured.  They  carried  him  tenderly 
across  the  street  into  a  neighbor's  house.  On  Al- 
ran's  immediate  return  to  the  fire  he  found  all  in 
confusion.  The  fire  was  gaining.  In  a  short  time 


166  THE   VICTORY  OF 

the  whole  house,  and  perhaps  the  whole  block, 
would  be  doomed.  The  accident  to  the  fire  chief 
had  demoralized  the  firemen,  as  their  chief  had 
been  in  charge  of  every  fire  for  over  fifteen  years, 
and  none  knew  just  how  to  take  the  lead.  To 
make  matters  worse,  old  Mr.  Daniels  was  running 
among  the  people,  frantically  begging  someone  to 
help  save  his  home.  Allan  noticed  Frank  Antol  ;n 
the  crowd.  He  called  him  to  his  side,  and  going 
up  to  Mr.  Daniels  he  said :  "Mr.  Daniels,  here  is 
Frank  Antol.  He  will  take  you  to  my  house  close 
by.  I  will  see  this  fire  is  put  out  at  once.  It  is 
too  much  for  you  to  stay  here.  Go  to  my  home 
and  rest." 

The  old  man,  weeping  like  a  child,  went  help- 
lessly down  the  street  with  young  Antol  toward 
Allan's  house.  Meanwhile,  the  young  minister  as- 
sumed control.  While  at  college  he  had  been  fire 
chief  of  the  little  hose  company  they  had  at  the 
school,  and,  while  he  had  never  superintended  the 
work  of  putting  out  an  actual  fire,  he  was  familiar 
with  the  handling  of  hose. 

"Come,  boys!"  he  shouted,  in  a  tone  of  author- 
ity. "Raise  this  ladder  again,  quick!"  The  lad- 
der was  soon  again  in  position.  "Now,  two  of  you 
men  hold  it,  and  one  man  follow  me,  and  let  us  get 
the  hose  up  on  top  quickly  or  it  will  be  too  late." 
The  men  hastened  to  obey,  glad  to  find  a  leader 
able  to  take  charge.  In  a  moment  he  and  his 
helper  were  safe  on  the  top  of  the  upper  porch 
roof. 

"Turn  on  the  water!"  he  shouted  down.  There 
was  a  gurgling  sound  as  the  long  hose  twisted  and 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  167 

swirled  like  a  living  thing.  Then  came  a  loud  re- 
port, and  a  large  stream  of  water  gushed  from  the 
nozzle  and  fell  sizzling  on  the  blazing  roof. 
"Train  the  other  hose  on  the  fire  from  the 
ground!"  Allan  shouted  again.  Soon  a  second 
stream  was  rising  from  the  ground  and  falling  like 
a  deluge  of  rain  on  the  flames.  It  was  not  a  mo- 
ment too  soon.  The  terrible  roar,  which  fire  has 
when  it  gets  the  mastery,  was  beginning  to  awe 
the  onlookers,  when  Allan's  prompt  action  saved 
the  situation.  The  two  steady  streams  of  water 
played  on  the  burning  wood  relentlessly,  and  the 
demon  of  fire  began  to  retreat.  The  bright  flame 
died  out.  The  roar  was  stilled.  The  steady  splash 
of  water  became  more  and  more  distinct.  In  ten 
minutes  all  danger  was  over.  Allan  stayed  on  the 
roof  until  he  had  seen  the  last  spark  die  out,  and 
even  when  he  staggered  down  the  ladder  he  took 
no  chances,  but  sent  up  a  fresh  man  to  keep  a  look- 
out lest  a  hidden  spark  renew  the  flame. 

"All  out!"  This  glad  cry,  which  signifies  the 
close  of  the  battle  between  the  firemen  and  the 
destroying  element,  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
and  the  crowd  began  to  disperse.  When  Allan 
reached  his  home  he  found  Mr.  Daniels  lying,  ut- 
terly exhausted,  on  the  bed.  Assisting  him  to  re- 
tire for  the  balance  of  the  night,  and  assuring  him 
that  all  danger  of  fire  was  over  and  that  his  home 
was  saved,  Allan  turned  the  bed  over  to  his  visitor 
and  lay  down  himself  on  a  couch  in  his  study.  He 
was  very  tired  and  soon  fell  fast  asleep.  He  was 
awakened  by  Mr.  Daniels  coming  into  the  study  to 
bid  him  good-by. 


168  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"I  am  going  over  to  Mr.  Wilson's  for  break- 
fast," he  said  to  the  minister.  "My  wife  went 
there  last  night,  and  I  want  to  hurry  over  and  as- 
sure her  that  I  am  all  right.  I  want  to  thank 
you,  Mr.  Rutledge,  for  what  you  did  for  me  last 
night."  The  old  man  was  entirely  calm  again 
after  the  excitement  caused  by  the  fire  in  his  house. 
"I  have  had  hard  thoughts  of  you,  sir,"  he  went 
on,  with  the  suspicion  of  a  tear  in  his  eye,  "but  I 
want  you  to  forgive  me.  Count  me  as  your  friend 
after  this  Mr.  Rutledge." 

"It  is  all  right,  Mr.  Daniels.  No  harm  has  been 
done,"  replied  Allan,  giving  the  old  man  a  hearty 
handshake.  "I  hope  you  will  find  Mrs.  Daniels  all 
right.  I  do  not  think  the  house  has  been  badly 
damaged."  After  a  hasty  breakfast  Allan  hurried 
to  the  home  where  Louis  Antoine  was  carried  after 
his  accident.  In  the  excitement  of  subduing  the 
flames  he  had  almost  forgotten  the  injured  fire- 
man. He  found  Doctor  Lucas  and  Pat  McGinnis 
watching  by  Antoine's  side.  The  grave  look  on 
the  doctor's  face  showed  Allan  that  the  unfortun- 
ate man  was  seriously,  if  not  fatally,  hurt. 

"How  is  he,  Doctor?"  he  whispered. 

"No  hope,"  answered  the  physician.  "It  was  a 
terrible  fall  and  the  ladder  struck  him." 

"Has  he  been  conscious  yet?"  the  minister  asked. 

"Not  yet,  but  I  am  expecting  him  to  arouse  at 
any  time.  I  think  he  will  regain  consciousness 
for  a  little  while  before  the  end  comes,  but  it  will 
soon  be  all  over  with  the  brave  fellow." 

They  waited  quietly  by  the  bedside  in  silence. 
Antoine  was  breathing  heavily,  and  shortly  after 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  169 

Allan's  arrival  he  began  to  moan  in  his  uncon- 
scious sleep. 

"He  is  going  to  wake  up,"  said  the  doctor  as  the 
injured  man  turned  over,  still  moaning." 

"Come  on,  come  on,  chief!"  Antoine  began  to 
struggle  and  shout  out  in  a  strange,  husky  voice 
these  words. 

"That's  what  he  was  saying  just  as  the  ladder 
fell,"  whispered  Allan. 

In  a  few  moments  Louis  Antoine  opened  his 
eyes  and  looked  around  in  wonder.  "Where  am 
I?"  he  asked. 

"You  are  here  with  us,"  said  the  doctor  gently. 
"You  had  a  bad  fall  at  the  fire  last  night." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  fireman;  "I  remember.  The 
ladder  slipped.  Was  our  chief  hurt?"  he  asked. 

"His  leg  was  broken,"  answered  the  doctor;  "but 
he  will  be  well  again  in  a  few  weeks.  How  are 
you  feeling?" 

"I  feel  strange  here,"  said  the  Bohemian,  lay- 
ing his  left  hand  over  his  heart.  His  right  hand 
was  helpless. 

"You  fell  just  beside  me,  Mr.  Antoine,"  said  the 
minister,  coming  up  to  the  head  of  the  bed,  "but  I 
couldn't  help  you." 

"I  know  you  would  have  done  it,  if  you  could," 
answered  the  other,  as  a  look  of  agony  crossed  his 
face,  showing  the  watchers  that  the  sufferings  of 
a  broken  body  were  beginning. 

"Mr.  Antoine,"  said  Allan  tenderly,  "you  are 
.seriously  hurt.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for 
you?  Any  message  you  want  to  send?" 

"I  have  no  relatives  in  this  country,"  the  Bohe- 


170  THE   VICTORY  OF 

mian  answered,  "but  I  have  a  brother  in  Prague, 
Bohemia.  His  name  is  Vaseck  Antoine.  Write 
him.  Tell  him  I  became  a  Christian." 

Antoine  was  a  bachelor,  and  had  lived  with  an- 
other Bohemian  family.  The  injured  man  soon 
realized  that  he  was  fatally  hurt.  After  several 
awful  spasms  of  pain  a  numbing  sensation  began 
to  creep  over  his  body. 

"Louis,"  said  Pat  McGinnis,  coming  forward, 
"I'm  sorry  to  see  you  suffering  so." 

The  man's  face  lit  up  for  a  moment  as  he  recog- 
nized his  work-fellow,  and  then  another  bolt  of 
pain  shot  through  his  poor,  broken  body. 

"Does  it  hurt  ye  so  bad?"  asked  the  Irishman 
tenderly. 

"Ach,  Pat,"  said  the  former  infidel,  "it  is  not  the 
pains  of  my  body  that  trouble  me  now.  I  was 
just  thinking,  as  I  saw  you,  of  that  day  we  fought 
in  the  paint  shop." 

"Don't  spake  av'  it,  at  all,  at  all,"  said  Pat,  wip- 
ing his  eyes. 

"Mr.  Rutledge,"  said  Antoine  faintly,  "come 
here.  Allan  sat  down  beside  him. 

"I  want  to  thank  you,  sir,  for  leading  me  into 
the  light.  Ach,  but  I  used  to  live  in  darkness, 
awful  darkness."  He  paused,  as  mortal  agony 
again  rent  his  frame." 

"But,  Mr.  Rutledge,  I  am  sore  troubled  just 
now." 

"Trust  in  your  Saviour,  Louis.  He  will  carry 
you  safely." 

"I  know  that,  pastor.  I  am  not  doubting  him 
at  all.  But,  ach,  Pat  will  tell  you  how  I  once  said 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  171 

an  awful  word  about  my  Saviour.  I  can't  bear  to 
meet  him  when  I  think  of  it." 

"Kape  still,  Louis,"  said  his  former  antagonist. 
"I  knew  as  little  about  religion  as  ye  at  wan  time." 

Allan,  of  course,  did  not  understand  what  the 
conversation  was  about,  but  he  knew  the  grace  of 
Jesus  was  sufficient. 

"Don't  worry  about  anything  in  your  past  life, 
Louis,"  said  the  minister.  "You  remember  what 
God's  Word  says :  'If  we  confess  our  sins  He  is 
faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins  and  to 
cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteousness.'  You  have 
shown  us  all  that  you  are  a  true  believer  of  the 
Christ. 

"I  am  so  sorry  I  said  it,  but  I  did  it  in  ignor- 
ance," said  the  dying  Bohemian. 

Doctor  Lucas  felt  his  pulse.  "He  is  getting 
weaker,"  he  whispered  to  Allan.  "He  will  lapse 
into  a  coma  and  never  awake  again  on  earth." 

"Louis,  you  are  not  afraid  to  go  where  Jesus  is, 
are  you  ?"  asked  Allan,  taking  out  his  pocket  Bible. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  poor  man,  "but  I  wanted  to 
live  and  work  for  him  here.  I  have  been  such  a 
bad  man." 

"God  knows  best,  Louis.  You  remember  what 
President  McKinley  said:  'It  is  God's  way,  not 
ours.  His  will  be  done.'  You  have  done  a  great 
work  for  Jesus  already  among  your  fellow- 
countrymen  in  Wellington." 

f  "Tell  the  boys  at  the  shop  good-by  for  me,"  said 
Antoine,  speaking  to  Pat  McGinnis.  "Tell  them 
I  was  ready  and  that  I  died  a  Christian." 


172  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"Louis,  we  can't  let  you  go,"  said  Pat,  the  tears 
running  down  his  cheek. 

"Don't  cry,  Pat.  I'm  not  afraid  to  go.  I  am 
glad  I  was  on  the  ladder  and  not  one  of  the  men 
who  has  a  wife  and  children.  No  one  will  miss 
me." 

"We'll  all  miss  you,  Louis,"  answered  the  kind- 
hearted  Irishman. 

The  change  that  precedes  dissolution  began  to 
spread  over  Antoine's  countenance.  Allan  began 
to  read  the  wonderful  words  of  life  in  John's  gos- 
pel :  "Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled ;  ye  believe  in 
God,  believe  also  in  me.  In  my  Father's  house  are 
many  mansions :  if  it  were  not  so,  I  would  have 
told  you.  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you.  And 
if  I  go  and  prepare  a  place  for  you  I  will  come 
again,  and  receive  you  unto  myself:  that  where  I 
am,  there  ye  may  be  also." 

"Precious  Saviour,"  spoke  the  Bohemian,  as 
Allan  had  finished.  These  were  his  last  words. 
Unconsciousness  came  on  again,  and  about  noon 
the  spirit  of  Louis  Antoine  had  fled.  His  fatal  ac- 
cident made  a  lasting  impression  on  all  the  men 
at  the  factory.  Allan  was  asked  to  preach  a 
memorial  sermon  for  him  at  some  future  time  to 
all  the  men.  The  firemen  showed  their  apprecia- 
tion of  their  brave  comrade  by  sending  a  large 
wreath  of  roses  for  the  funeral.  The  service  in 
which  the  last  respects  of  the  living  for  this  for- 
eigner were  shown  was  held  in  the  church.  The 
firemen  and  the  employees  of  Markley's  factory 
attended  in  a  body.  The  entire  city  came  to  do 
reverence  to  this  humble  hero,  who  had  died  doing 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  ITS 

his  duty.  His  well  known  conversion  from  infi- 
delity to  the  faith  of  Christ  gave  a  sense  of  reality 
and  fitness  to  the  last  obsequies.  Allan  sought  to 
turn  their  thoughts  heavenward.  The  text  of  the 
sermon  was  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  ser- 
vant." As  they  went  home  from  that  funeral  ser- 
vice of  Louis  Antoine  there  was  a  fresh  resolution 
in  many  a  heart  to  live  more  earnestly  and  faith- 
fully. 

AHan  was  elected  an  honorary  member  of  the 
Firemen's  Association,  and  they  arranged  to  attend 
his  church  once  every  year  as  an  organization. 
This  was  the  beginning  of  "Firemen's  Day"  in  the 
church  calendar  in  Wellington. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
FREDERICK  MARKLEY  BEGINS  TO  REAP. 

"I  am  going  to  ask  him  for  $1,000  to-night,  and 
I  will  get  it." 

"And  I  must  have  $500  at  once." 

"He  will  be  here  soon.  I  told  him  to  be 
prompt,"  continued  the  first  speaker.  "I  can't  see 
why  he  is  so  stingy.  His  father  is  as  rich  as  a 
Jew.  If  he  doesn't  promise  to  hand  over  the  cash 
I  will  say  some  things  to-night  that  will  make  him 
sit  up  and  take  notice." 

This  conversation  took  place  one  evening  in  the 
back  room  of  one  of  Wellington's  law  offices. 
There  was  a  man  and  a  woman  in  the  room,  both 
fashionably  dressed.  The  woman  wore  a  heavy 
gold  bracelet  on  her  wrist,  and  had  on  her  finger 
a  gold  ring,  in  which  blazed  a  large  diamond.  Her 
age  was  about  thirty,  and,  though  decidedly  hand- 
some, there  was  a  sensual  look  on  her  face,  and  a 
bold  expression  that  would  repel  those  who  love 
modesty  in  women. 

The  man  was  a  few  years  younger,  not  more 
than  twenty-six.  He  was  rather  a  fine  looking  fel- 
low, but  he  had  a  sharp,  cunning  look  in  his  eyes, 
which  gave  him  a  sinister  appearance.  As  they 
were  speaking,  a  footstep  was  heard  on  the  rear 
stairway,  and  soon  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

174 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE   175 

"Who's  there?"  asked  the  man  in  the  room, 
whose  name  was  Jamison  White.  He  was  a  young- 
lawyer,  and  it  was  in  the  rear  room  of  his  law 
office  that  this  secret  night  meeting  was  held. 

"Markley,"  said  a  subdued  voice  in  the  hallway. 

White  unlocked  the  door  and  Frederick  Mark- 
ley  stepped  inside. 

"Good  evening,  Mrs.  Frisbie,"  he  said,  with  a 
cold  bow  to  the  woman. 

"How  are  you,  Fred?"  said  the  woman,  rising 
and  putting  out  her  hand. 

Young  Markley  shook  hands,  but  in  no  cordial 
manner. 

The  woman's  name  was  Mrs.  Frisbie,  and  her 
life  was  a  sad  commentary  on  the  influence  of  both 
the  social  and  church  life  of  a  community  when 
religion  is  more  a  name  than  a  reality.  Mrs.  Fris- 
bie was  the  wife  of  a  good,  honest  man,  George 
Frisbie,  whom  everyone  in  Wellington  respected. 
He  was  the  manager  of  the  office  at  Markley's 
factory,  and  a  trusted  employee.  As  a  consistent 
Christian,  he  was  one  of  the  most  faithful  mem- 
bers of  the  Wellington  Church,  but  his  wife  was  a 
millstone  around  his  neck.  They  had  two  chil- 
dren, a  son  and  a  daughter,  eight  and  ten  years 
of  age,  but  in  spite  of  this,  Mrs.  Frisbie  had  dis- 
honored her  home. 

When  the  Frisbies  came  to  Wellington  several 
years  previous  to  this  time,  they  were  received 
cordially  into  society,  and  at  once  took  their  places 
in  the  Wellington  Church.  At  first  all  went  well, 
and  both  of  them  were  held  in  the  highest  respect, 
but  a  sad  change  happened.  Mr.  Frisbie  was  often 


176  THE   VICTORY  OF 

compelled  to  return  to  the  office  at  night  during 
the  busy  season  at  the  factory,  and  when  he  was 
at  home  he  preferred  to  remain  with  the  children 
rather  than  seek  the  pleasures  of  society.  Accord- 
ingly, his  wife  was  in  the  habit  of  going  out  a  good 
deal  without  him  to  dances  and  social  gatherings. 
She  also  sang  in  the  choir  at  the  church,  and  at- 
tended choir  practise  once  a  week.  Her  striking 
beauty  and  dashing  manner  soon  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  Frederick  Markley,  and  he  often  es- 
corted her  home  from  the  dances  and  choir  prac- 
tises. The  result  may  be  imagined.  Mrs.  Frisbie 
lost  interest  in  her  husband  and  even  in  her  chil- 
dren, and  was  out  so  often  in  the  evenings  at  vari- 
ous gatherings  that  she  began  to  have  a  "name" 
among  the  observing.  For  the  sake  of  Mr.  Fris- 
bie, with  whom  all  sympathized,  little  was  said 
about  her  evident  lapse,  and  she  was  even  tolerated 
by  the  best  people  in  the  community. 

Her  presence  in  the  choir  was  a  continual  heart- 
break to  Dr.  Anning,  but  the  peace  and  harmony 
of  the  church  could  not  be  sacrificed  by  making 
any  attempt  to  get  rid  of  her.  After  Allan  Rut- 
ledge  became  minister  and  the  entire  atmosphere 
of  the  church  changed,  Mrs.  Frisbie  quit  the  choir 
of  her  own  accord.  She  had  an  intense  dislike  for 
the  new  minister,  and  was  loudest  in  condemna- 
tion of  his  act  in  "blackening  the  reputation  of  our 
college,"  as  she  expressed  it. 

Jamison  White,  the  young  lawyer  who  was  in 
the  office  along  with  her  that  evening  when  young 
Markley  joined  them,  was  one  of  Wellington's  fast 
set.  He  had  a  showy  office  and  seemed  to  have 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  177 

plenty  of  money,  but  his  entire  time  was  given  to 
social  frivolities.  People  often  wondered  how  his 
law  practice,  which  was  almost  nothing,  could 
bring  him  in  an  income  sufficient  for  his  lavish  ex- 
penditures. 

After  Frederick  Markley  joined  them,  White 
carefully  locked  the  door.  He  opened  the  conver- 
sation by  remarking: 

"I  am  a  little  sleepy  to-night.  I  was  out  at  the 
fire  last  night  and  lost  nearly  a  whole  night's  sleep 
over  old  Daniels'  bonfire.  I  expect  Rutledge 
thinks  he  did  a  big  thing  at  the  fire,"  he  added. 
"The  whole  town  is  getting  crazy  after  that  fool 
preacher.  I  came  near  jerking  the  hose  last 
night,  and  pulling  him  off  the  roof.  I  felt  like  do- 
ing it." 

"I  wish  you  had,"  said  Mrs.  Frisbie,  with  a 
frown.  "I  can't  bear  that  man.  I  do  not  see 
what  our  church  wants  with  such  a  preacher." 

"If  they  were  all  like  you,"  said  Markley,  with 
a  sneer,  "Rutledge  could  pack  his  trunk  to-mor- 
row, but  I  suppose  the  preacher  thanks  the  stars 
that  there  is  only  one  Mrs.  Frisbie  a  member  of  his 
church." 

"I  hate  him !"  hissed  the  woman,  but  she  flushed 
as  she  noted  the  sneer  in  Markley's  voice,  for  the 
sneer  was  for  her  benefit.  Mrs.  Frisbie  had  had 
one  encounter  with  Allan  Rutledge.  It  was  dur- 
ing the  Gospel  meetings,  when  Mrs.  Frisbie  went 
to  the  minister  about  some  "doubts"  she  had  in 
efcrence  to  the  Christian  religion. 

"What  do  you  make  of  the  creation  story  in. 
Genesis?"  she  had  asked  the  minister. 


178  THE   VICTORY  OF 

Allan  Rutledge  knew  well  her  reputation  for  a 
fondness  for  the  society  of  men  to  the  neglect  of 
her  husband  and  family,  and  when  she  asked  him 
this  question  one  day  he  looked  her  straight  in  the 
face  and  answered: 

"Mrs.  Frisbie,  I  see  in  the  creation  story  that 
God  made  one  man  for  one  woman,  and  I  think 
that  is  one  of  its  most  important  lessons." 

The  false  wife  made  no  reply,  but  walked  off  in 
high  indignation,  and  thereafter  her  bitterness 
against  the  new  minister  was  only  equaled  by  the 
bitterness  of  Elder  Markley  and  President  Older. 

"That  Rutledge  is  a  four-flusher,"  said  White 
sneeringly.  "I  see  nothing  in  him  at  all.  Look 
out  for  your  sister,  Markley.  Rutledge  is  acting 
sweet  toward  her.  I  saw  them  together  to-day  out 
near  the  house  of  that  Irishman,  Pat  McGinnis." 

Frederick  Markley  was  not  lost  to  all  honor.  His 
sister  was  sacred  in  his  eyes,  and  to  hear  White 
mention  her  like  this  irritated  him. 

"Don't  trouble  about,  my  sister,"  he  answered 
hotly.  "She  seems  to  know  a  real  rascal  at  sight." 
And  young  Markley  scowled  at  White. 

White  knew  what  he  meant,  for  he  had  tried 
himself  to  attract  the  attention  of  Grace  Markley 
some  time  before,  but  she  had  promptly  spurned 
him  off  in  disgust. 

"Oh,  yes,  Miss  Markley  is  so  good,"  sniffed  Mrs. 
Frisbie,  with  upturned  nose. 

"Shut  up,  you  ,"  snapped  out  Markley, 

turning  toward  her  in  a  towering  rage. 

"Come,  come,  let  us  get  down  to  business,"  said 
White,  drawing  his  chair  near  the  table.  "Mark- 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  179 

ley,  I  want  another  thousand  from  you  by  next 
Saturday." 

As  he  slowly  uttered  these  words,  Markley's 
eyes  lost  their  fire.  His  cheek  grew  pale.  He 
seemed  to  be  trembling,  as  he  answered : 

"A  thousand  more,  White?  Why  I  cannot  pos- 
sibly do  it  now." 

"You  must !"  said  the  other,  and  his  teeth  came 
together  like  a  steel  trap. 

Young  Markley  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands. 
He  was  a  pitiable  looking  object.  The  life  seemed 
to  have  gone  from  his  body,  and  he  slouched,  limp 
and  nerveless,  in  his  chair.  Turning  to  White,  he 
began,  in  a  pleading  voice: 

"White,  listen  to  reason.  I  have  given  you  over 
three  thousand  in  the  last  twelve  months.  My 
father  is  getting  suspicious.  I  can't  ask  him  for 
any  more  just  now.  You  must  wait.  I  will  pay 
you  the  entire  ten  thousand,  as  I  promised,  but 
you  must  wait." 

"I  can't  wait,"  said  the  other.  "I  must  have  the 
money  this  week.  People  don't  wait  on  me." 

"And  I  must  have  mine  by  to-morrow,"  inter- 
jected Mrs.  Frisbie.  "I  am  going  to  Des  Moines 
this  week  for  some  jewelry  I  ordered,  and  I  must 
have  the  money." 

Again  Markley  dropped  his  head.  At  last  he 
raised  his  head  with  a  look  of  defiance. 

"Is  this  what  you  wanted  to  see  me  about  to- 
night?" he  inquired  with  an  energy  that  startled 
bpth  of  his  companions. 

"Yes,  and  we  want  a  positive  answer,"  replied 
WThite  firmly. 


180  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"I'll  give  you  a  positive  answer,"  responded 
Markley,  the  color  again  mounting  to  his  cheek. 
"I  can't  do  it,  and  I  won't  do  it!  You  can  do 
your  worst,  but  I  say  no !" 

Markley's  eyes  were  blazing  as  he  shouted  out 
the  last  word. 

"Keep  quiet,  keep  quiet !"  said  White,  in  a  harsh 
whisper.  "Someone  may  hear  us.  Don't  yell  like 
a  madman.  Now,  Markley,"  he  went  on,  in  a  cold, 
businesslike  tone,  "there  is  no  need  of  a  fuss.  You 
can  get  the  money  from  the  old  man.  all  right. 
You  have  often  done  it  before.  Remember,  I  have 
only  to  whisper  a  few  words  to  the  sheriff  and 
you  are  looking  at  life  through  a  hangman's 
noose." 

Again  Markley's  face  paled.  He  sank  back  in  his 
chair  with  a  groan,  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands.  ., 

"Don't  act  foolish,"  said  the  other.  "This  is  a 
matter  of  business  with  me.  I  don't  want  to  make 
you  trouble,  but  I  want  the  money  and  must  have 
it." 

While  the  two  men  were  engaged  in  this  con- 
versation, Mrs.  Frisbie  had  been  watching  Mark- 
ley  with  interest.  When  he  sank  back,  groaning, 
in  his  chair,  as  though  in  intence  pain,  the  woman 
heart  within  her  stirred  in  tenderness,  in  spite  of 
her  degraded  life,  and  she  arose  from  her  chair  and 
walked  over  behind  him. 

Throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck  she  began, 
in  a  pleading  voice: 

"Now,  Fred,  don't  act  so.  You  know  your 
father " 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  181 

Before  she  could  go  further  young  Markley  had 
leaped  to  his  feet  ai^d  brushed  her  off,  exclaiming: 

"Don't  touch  me,  don't  touch  me!  It  is  bad 
enough  to  have  to  listen  to  you." 

The  woman's  look  of  tenderness  turned  to  a 
glare  of  hatred  and  she  slowly  took  her  seat  again. 

"Well,  Markley,  what  do  you  say?"  White  was 
growing  impatient.  "Mrs.  Frisbie's  family,"  he 
continued,  with  a  contemptuous  smirk  at  the 
woman,  "will  be  looking  for  her  to  get  home  from 
the  lodge." 

Mr.  Frisbie  well  knew  his  wife  was  frivolous 
and  foolish,  and  becoming  more  so  each  year,  but 
she  had  so  far  kept  him  in  ignorance  of  her  real  life. 
On  occasions  such  as  this,  when  she  had  engage- 
ments of  a  compromising  kind,  she  would  tell  him 
she  was  going  to  a  lodge  meeting,  or  a  party  of 
some  kind.  He  had  discovered  accidentally  two  or 
three  times  that  she  had  lied  to  him  about  her 
movements,  but  she  always  had  some  plausible 
story  which  kept  the  unfortunate  man  in  a  kind  of 
ignorance,  but  he  knew  all  was  not  well  and  his 
home  life  was  a  blank.  His  only  relief  was  found 
in  his  little  boy  and  girl,  who  had  both  a  father's 
and  a  mother's  love  in  the  tender  affection  he  lav- 
ished on  them. 

Recollections  of  the  happy  days  of  her  previous 
life  sometimes  came  to  the  foolish  woman,  but  she 
drowned  them  in  still  greater  excesses  until  her 
complete  downfall  seemed  imminent.  On  this 
night  White's  sneering  reference  to  her  "family," 
and  the  evident  disgust  of  Markley  toward  her, 


182  THE   VICTORY  OF 

caused  her  to  see  the  tragedy  of  her  life  as  she  had 
never  realizd  it  before. 

It  is  told  of  a  native  woman  of  India  that  she 
could  not  be  induced  to  wash  her  face,  much  to 
the  disgust  of  her  mistress,  who  was  a  Christian 
missionary.  Finally,  the  mistress  determined  on 
strategy.  She  took  another  more  pliable  native 
servant,  and  had  her  face  careft  lly  washed  and  her 
hair  combed  and  braided.  Then  she  had  the 
filthy-faced  native  and  her  washed  fellow-servant 
stand  together  before  a  large  mirror. 

She  called  attention  to  the  attractiveness  of  the 
clean  native's  reflection  in  the  mirror,  and  said  to 
the  unwashed  one :  "That  is  your  companion.  She 
is  lovely  because  she  is  clean."  Then  she  pointed 
to  the  filthy-faced  reflection,  and,  pointing  ou .  the 
foul  stains  and  the  disheveled  hair,  she  exclaimed, 
in  a  tone  of  disgust:  "That's  you!" 

It  was  a  revelation  to  the  unwashed  Hindoo. 
She  realized  for  the  first  time  her  filthiness  and 
ran  out  of  the  room  and  all  over  the  house,  crying 
out  in  a  frenzy:  "Wash  me,  wash  me,  wash  me!" 

So,  as  in  a  mirror,  Mrs.  Frisbie  saw  herself  as 
she  once  was,  a  good  mother  and  loving  wife  and 
beside  that  picture  she  saw  herself  as  she  now  was, 
a  degraded  and  defiled,  an  untrusted  and  unloved 
woman.  The  awful  realization  maddened  her. 

"Don't  laugh  at  me,  you  thief!"  she  said  to 
White,  with  her  eyes  glittering  in  anger.  "You 
are  worse  than  Frederick  Markley  and  you  deserve 
the  hangman's  noose  as  much  as  he  does,  you 
sneaking  coward !"  Markley  and  White  both 
stared  uneasily  at.  their  companion.  "You  blood- 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  183 

sucker,"  she  went  on  to  the  astonished  young  law- 
yer, "your  name  is  White,  but  you  are  as  black  as 
Satan.  I  know  enough  about  you  to  send  you  to 
the  penitentiary.  Didn't  you  stand  up  and  help 
deceive  that  young  girl  yourself,  telling  her  you 
were  a  justice  of  the  peace?  You  are  equally 
guilty.  Both  of  you  are  fit  only  for  the  gallows !" 
And  the  infuriated  woman,  who  had  worked  her- 
self into  a  wild  passion,  looked  like  a  tigress  as  she 
poured  out  the  vials  of  her  wrath  on  the  two 
young  men. 

"I  have  no  pity  for  you,  Frederick  Markley," 
she  went  on,  and  Markley  shuddered  as  she  men- 
tioned his  name.  "You  spoiled  my  life  and  then 
you  threw  me  off  for  that  Bohemian  beauty.  Poor 
thing,  I  pitied  her.  I  knew  her  fate.  I  wish  I  had 
never  seen  this  place.  I  was  a  good  woman  until 
I  came  here,  and  met  such  creatures  as  you!  If 
there  is  a  God  in  heaven  he  will  punish  both  of 
you  yet,  you  scoundrels !" 

"Mrs.  Frisbie,  Mrs.  Frisbie,  you  forget  your- 
self," interrupted  White.  "Speak  lower.  Some- 
one may  hear  you." 

"I  forget  nothing,"  replied  the  unhappy  woman. 
"Ah,  that  will  be  my  curse  through  life !  I  will 
never  be  able  to  forget.  Once  I  was  a  good 
woman,"  she  added  with  breaking  voice,  and  then 
burst  into  tears  and  wept  hysterically,  rocking  to 
and  fro  in  her  chair. 

"Emily."  said  young  Markley,  evident^  touched 
by  the  woman's  distress,  "I  will  try  to  get  you 
money  to-morrow.  Don't  take  on  so." 

"Money,  money !"  exclaimed  the  woman,  "that's 


184   THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

all  you  have,  sir,  but  I  am  through  with  you  and 
your  filthy  money.  I  don't  want  any  more.  I  am 
through.  I  am  going  back  to  my  family  to-night 
and  I  will  stay  with  them." 

As  she  said  this,  Mrs.  Frisbie  began  to  pin  on 
her  hat. 

"Just  one  thing,"  she  said,  stopping  as  she  was 
walking  toward  the  door.  "If  I  ever  hear  that 
either  of  you  have  said  a  single  word  against  my 
reputation  I  will  shoot  you  dead.  Remember  * 
From  now  on  I  am  a  woman  again." 

Her  eyes  were  glittering  like  a  basilisk's  as  she 
opened  the  door,  walked  out,  and  closed  it  with  a 
pull  behind  her. 

"The  woman's  going  crazy,  I  believe,"  said 
White,  after  her  footsteps  on  the  rear  stairway  had 
died  away. 

"She's  getting  sense,  I  think,"  answered  Mark- 
ley  gloomily.  "Well,  White,"  he  went  on,  "I  will 
see  if  I  can  raise  another  thousand  this  wreek,  but 
I  swear  to  you  it  must  be  the  last  for  several 
months." 

"I  will  try  to  be  patient  with  you,"  responded 
White,  and  both  of  the  men  were  glad  to  close  the 
interview. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ELDER  MARKLEY  AND  HIS  SON  HAVE  AN 
INTERVIEW. 

The  day  following  the  secret  night  meeting  in 
Jamison  White's  law  office  Frederick  Markley  was 
walking  slowly  to  his  father's  factory.  The  elder 
Markley  spent  several  hours  each  day  in  his  office 
at  the  factory,  as  this  was  now  his  most  important 
and  best  paying  business  venture.  The  young 
man'  mind  was  in  a  tumult.  On  account  of  his 
knowledge  of  some  things  in  young  Markley's  life, 
Jamison  White  had  been  collecting  "hush  money" 
from  him  for  over  a  year.  This  yoke  of  bondage 
was  becoming  more  and  more  galling  to  the  self- 
willed  spendthrift,  as  his  monthly  allowance  from 
his  father  was  now  altogether  too  small  to  meet 
his  requirements,  and  he  had  to  resort  to  various 
tricks  to  satisfy  the  greedy  appetite  of  White  for 
dollars.  He  had  secured  $3,000  from  his  father 
on  various  pretenses,  claiming  he  was  making  in- 
vestments in  Western  land  and  mines,  but  the 
shrewd  elder  Markley  had  become  suspicious,  and 
when  the  son  secured  the  last  thousand  there  had 
been  quite  a  scene. 

Frederick  Markley  well  knew  that  a  request  for 
still  another  thousand  that  day  would  arouse  his 
father's  anger  and  lead,  perhaps,  to  some  unpleas- 

185 


186  THE   VICTORY  OF 

ant  questioning  on  the  part  of  his  parent.  He  hes- 
itated several  times  and  once  he  almost  turned 
back. 

"I  can't  do"  it!"  he  said  to  himself.  "My  father 
declared  he  would  put  up  with  it  no  longer  the 
last  time  I  asked  him  for  money,  and  I  know  he 
will  be  furious  to-day.  I  can't  do  it !  I  will  tell 
White  so."  Then  he  remembered  the  threat  that 
White  had  made  the  night  before.  "Curse  the 
scoundrel !"  he  exclaimed,  gnashing  his  teeth.  "I 
am  almost  tempted  to  murder  him.  Mrs.  Frisbie 
was  right  when  she  called  him  a  "sneaking  thief." 

At  the  recollection  of  Mrs.  Frisbie  his  frown 
darkened  as  he  said  aloud  to  himself:  "What  a 
mess  I  have  made  of  things.  I  half  believe  Rut- 
ledge  is  right.  This  crooked  life  of  mine  is  a 
fright.  I  am  getting  sick  and  tired  of  it. 

At  last  he  made  up  his  mind  resolutely  that  he 
must  have  the  money,  and,  collecting  his  courage, 
he  entered  the  main  office  of  the  factory  and 
saluted  the  clerks. 

"How  are  you,  Mr.  Markley,"  said  Mr.  Frisbie 
respectfully,  utterly  ignorant  of  the  depression  his 
cordial  greeting  caused  the  young  man. 

"Not  very  well  to-day,  Frisbie,"  he  answered. 
"How  is  young  Antol  getting  along?" 

Frank  Antol  was  now  employed  as  Mr.  Frisbie's 
assistant  in  the  office  work.  He  had  obtained  this 
responsible  position,  after  his  graduation  from  high 
school,  through  the  influence  of  Grace  Markley. 

"He  is  a  splendid  office  man,"  responded  Mr. 
Frisbie  with  pride,  "and  I  think  if  he  keeps  on,  as 


ALLAN  EUT LEDGE  187 

he  has  begun,  he  will  be  able  to  run  the  office  him- 
self soon." 

"That's  good,"  said  young  Markley  absent- 
mindedly.  "Is  father  in?"  he  added,  motioning 
toward  the  door  of  his  father's  private  office. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Frank  Antol.  "He  is  all 
alone  in  the  office." 

Frederick  Markley  knocked,  and  then  opened 
the  door  ana  entered.  During  the  next  fifteen 
minutes  the  clerks  in  the  outer  office  could  hear 
occasionally  loud  talking  between  the  father  and 
son,  but  none  suspected  the  tragedy  of  the  scene 
that  was  enacted. 

"Hello,  father !"  said  the  young  man,  siting  down 
in  a  chair  near  Elder  Markley's  desk.  "How's 
business?" 

"It  isn't  helped  on  any  by  you,  sir,"  replied  the 
father,  evidently  a  little  out  of  humor  over  some- 
thing. 

Young  Markley  was  supposed  to  work  in  his 
father's  office,  but  he  did  less  and  less,  until  now 
there  was  no  real'  responsibility  on  him  at  all,  and 
he  often  allowed  a  whole  week  to  go  past  without 
appearing  at  the  office  once. 

As  the  two  men  sat  there  that  morning,  there 
was  a  marked  contrast  between  them.  The 
older  man  was  stout,  square  shouldered,  with  a 
strong  determined  face,  the  embodiment  of  will  and 
energy.  The  young  man  was  stylishly  dressed, 
but  his  whole  personality  suggested  lack  of  energy, 
*nd  his  face  revealed  a  lamentable  deficiency  in 
will  power  and  self-control.  Indeed,  his  coun- 
tenance had  a  haggard  and  dissipated  look  that 


188  THE   VICTORY  OF 

angered  his  father  that  morning  as  he  looked  at 
him. 

"There  does  not  seem  to  be  much  for  me  to  do 
in  the  office  since  Mr.  Frisbie  has  been  given  an 
assistant  or  I  would  be  here  more  regularly,"  re- 
sponded the  young  man,  trying  to  say  something 
that  would  get  his  father  into  a  better  humor. 

"You  are  of  no  use  anywhere,  sir,"  said  his 
father  angrily.  "I  am  getting  disgusted  with  your 
conduct  lately." 

"I  am  no  worse  than  usual,  sir,"  replied  the  son 
with  a  little  heat.  "What's  wrong  now?" 

"Well,"  replied  the  father  slowly,  "  a  number 
of  the  young  men  around  town  have  been  settling 
down  to  business,  and  giving  up  their  foolish  boy- 
ish habits,  but  you  go  on  worse  than  ever." 

"Oh,  you  mean  my  old  chums  that  have  sided  in 
with  Rutledge?  Yes,  they  have  quit,  all  right,  but 
you  have  never  advised  me  to  pay  any  attention 
to  anything  that  Rutledge  says." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  be  a  goody-goody  nobody, 
sir,  but  you  ought  not  to  disgrace  yourself.  You 
gave  Rutledge  an  advantage  over  us  out  at  the  col- 
lege. You  ought  to  have  been  more  careful. 

"Why,  I  thought  that  the  college  squabble  gave 
you  the  only  chance  you  had  to  kick  the  fellow  out 
of  town,"  said  the  former  choir  leader  in  the  Well- 
ington Church. 

"The  fact  that  he  was  able  to  mention  your 
name  in  his  letter  to  the  newspaper  has  made  -t 
unpleasant  for  me.  I  would  begin  action  for  slan- 
der against  him,  but  the  pesky  fellow  is  such  a 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  189 

fighter  I  know  it  would  only  make  matters  worse," 
responded  the   elder  in  the   church. 

"Yes,  Rutledge  would  likely  bring  out  the 
truth,"  said  young  Markley  with  a  wry  face. 

"What  are  you  after  this  morning?"  asked  his 
father,  turning  around  to  him.  "I  am  busy  and 
have  not  time  to  spend  discussing  Rutledge." 

"Father,  I  want  another  thousand  dollars.     I — " 

Before  he  could  get  another  word  elder  Mark- 
ley  had  jumped  to  his  feet,  exclaiming: 

"You  won't  get  it,  sir!  I  am  sick  and  tired  of 
your  asking  me  for  money.  Here  I  have  been 
toiling  and  working  like  a  slave  all  these  years  to 
accumulate  a  little  property,  and  you  throw  it 
away  like  dirt.  Not  a  penny,  sir,  not  a  penny!" 

"But,  father,  I  have  another  investment,"  in- 
terrupted the  son. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  of  investment.  I  know  better. 
What  investment  have  you  ever  made?  Show  me 
a  single  block  of  stock  you  have  ever  bought,  or 
the  deed  to  a  single  acre  of  land.  Your  sister, 
Grace,  knows  far  more  about  business  than  you  do. 
She  keeps  an  account  of  every  dollar  she  spends. 
Frank  Antol,  our  new  boy  in  the  office,  has  learned 
more  about  this  business  in  a  few  weeks  than  you 
learned  in  as  many  years.  You  must  change  your 
ways,  Frederick  Markley,  or  I  will  cut  you  adrift." 

"I  would  like  to  change  my  ways,  but  I  am  just 
what  you  made  me,"  answered  the  young  man 
bitterly. 

j  "Silence,  sir!"  shouted  the  thoroughly  aroused 
parent.  "Don't  blame  your  folly  on  me.  I  set 
you  a  good  example  of  diligence  and  respectability. 


190  THE   VICTORY   OF 

I  am  the  leading  man  in  our  community  and 
church.  I  had  expected  you  to  succeed  me,  Fred- 
erick," he  added  in  lower  tones.  "I  am  dis- 
appointed in  you." 

"I  am  just  what  you  made  me,  sir,"  persisted 
the  son.  "You  taught  me  to  drink  wine,  to  gam- 
ble, to  sneer  at  religion,  to  despise  preachers,  to 
spend  money,  and  I  know  myself  I  am  nothing 
but  a  failure." 

"No  such  thing,"  sternly  replied  the  elder  Mark- 
ley.  "I  taught  you  to  drink  a  social  glass  like  a 
gentleman  and  play  a  respectable  game  of  cards, 
but  I  never  taught  you  to  disgrace  yourself  as  you 
are  doing." 

Young  Markley  felt  there  was  no  use  in  follow- 
ing up  this  conversation,  and  he  saw  clearly  that 
he  must  resort  to  desperate  measures  if  he  suc- 
ceeded in  securing  the  money  for  which  Jamison 
White  was  hounding  him. 

"Father,  give  me  one  thousand  this  time  and  I 
swear  it  is  the  last  time  I  will  ask  anything  above 
my  allowance." 

The  young  man  spoke  in  earnest,  but  he  had 
made  the  same  promise  on  the  last  occasion. 

"I  will  not!"  snapped  out  his  father.  "If  you 
have  any  gambling  debts  to  pay  you  can  work  and 
earn  the  money.  I  tell  you  I  am  through  uphold- 
ing you  in  your  follies." 

"Father,"  said  young  Markley,  with  a  danger- 
ous gleam  in  his  eye,  "what  would  you  give  to  see 
Rutledge  driven  out  of  Wellington?" 

As  on  a  dark,  cloudy  day,  when  the  sky  lowers 
and  frowns  upon  man,  suddenly  the  whole  face  of 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  191 

nature  is  changed  in  a  moment  when  the  sun 
emerges  into  a  clear  spot  in  the  heavens  and  sends 
its  glad  light  with  a  rush  over  the  entire  landscape, 
so  the  clouds  and  frowns  left  elder  Markley's  brow 
at  the  suggestion  of  Allan  Rutledge's  probable  ex- 
pulsion from  Wellington.  He  sat  down  and  faced 
his  son  again. 

"What  can  you  do  to  help  us  drive  him  out?" 
he  asked,  with  a  manner  which  plainly  said,  "Per- 
haps, after  all,  you  can  be  of  some  use  to  me." 

"I  can  help  in  keeping  him  here,"  responded 
the  young  man,  "and  I  will  do  it  if  you  refuse  to 
give  me  the  money  I  have  asked." 

Again,  as  when  the  sun  hides  itself  once  more 
and  the  sky  lowers  darker  than  ever,  so  Elder 
Markley's  face  clouded  over  with  rage. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  he  demanded  fiercely. 

"I  mean  what  I  say.  If  you  refuse  to  give  me 
a  thousand  dollars  this  morning  I  will  attend  the 
church  convention  in  Des  Moines,  and  I  will  swear 
that  Rutledge  was  in  the  right.  I  will  swear  that 
the  students  were  being  taught  to  gamble  in  Well- 
ington College,  and  it  was  his  exposure  of  it  in 
the  newspapers  that  killed  our  gambling  class.  I 
will  make  Rutledge  a  hero  and  I  won't  need  to 
perjure  my  soul  in  doing  it,  as  you  know  well." 

If  a  bombshell  had  exploded  in  his  office,  Elder 
Markley  could  not  have  been  more  astounded. 
Never  before  had  he  seen  his  son  so  wild,  so  des- 
perate. Never  before  had  he  shown  such  con- 
J^mpt  for  his  father.  Accustomed  to  having  his 
own  way  in  everything,  Markley's  chief  reason  for 
hating  Allan  Rutledge  was  that  the  new  minister 


192  THE   VICTORY  OF 

had  a  mind  of  his  own  and  refused  to  submit  to 
one  man's  dictation.  But  to  have  his  son  rebel 
against  his  authority  in  this  way  was  a  crushing 
blow. 

As  Frederick  Markley  watched  the  effect  of  his 
threat  on  his  father,  he  almost  repented  making 
it.  The  old  man  gasped  and  gagged.  His  breath 
came  in  quick,  short  explosions.  He  seemed  like 
a  man  on  the  verge  of  apoplexy.  The  color  left 
his  face.  When  he  spoke  his  whole  tone  had 
changed,  and  in  a  hollow  voice  he  asked : 

"Frederick,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  could 
think  of  a  trick  like  that?" 

The  son  was  desperate.  Jamison  White  was 
hounding  him  to  the  verge  of  despair.  Conscience, 
hitherto  a  silent  voice  in  his  soul,  was  beginning 
to  wake  up  with  upbraidings.  He  wanted  a 
thousand  dollars  from  his  father  and  he  was  des- 
perate enough  to  have  resorted  to  the  highway- 
man's method,  if  need  be,  to  get  it.  He  saw  his 
advantage  over  his  father,  and  he  went  on  in  cool, 
measured  tones: 

"I  mean  exactly  what  I  say.  Give  me  a  check 
for  one  thousand  dollars,  or  I  swear  to  God  I  will 
give  Rutledge  a  clean  bill  of  health  before  all 
Iowa !" 

Without  another  word,  the  older  man  pulled  out 
a  drawer  in  his  desk  and  took  out  a  blank  check 
book.  So  great  was  the  silence  in  the  room  that 
the  scratch  of  the  pen  could  be  heard  distinctly  as 
Elder  Markley  filled  out  the  check  for  one  thousand 
dollars  and  signed  it.  Without  saying  a  word  or 


GIVE   ME  A   THOUSAND    DOLLARS — OR  I   WILL  MAKE 
RUTLEDGE   A   HERO  !  " — Page   IQ2. 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  193 

even  looking  in  his  face,  he  handed  the  check  to 
his  son. 

With  a  wild  look  of  triumph  in  his  eyes,  young 
Markley  took  the  check  in  silence  from  his  fath- 
er's hand  and  walked  out  of  the  office.  When  he 
had  gone,  elder  Markley  sat  in  a  daze  for  a  full 
half  hour.  He  was  stunned  and  hardly  able  to 
comprehend  just  what  had  happened.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  was  utterly  unnerved.  If 
his  son  had  held  him  up  at  the  point  of  a  revolver, 
he  could  not  have  been  more  humiliated  and 
shocked. 

After  a  while  a  feeling  of  loneliness  and  grief 
came  over  him.  "To  think,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"of  all  that  I  have  done  for  the  boy,  and  then  to 
have  him  treat  me  like  this.  Frederick,  Freder- 
ick, you  have  ruined  my  life!" 

For  several  days  Mrs.  Markley  noticed  her  hus- 
band's depression,  but  she  imagined  it  was  on  ac- 
count of  some  business  reverse,  and  he  did  not 
confide  in  her  the  cause  of  his  melancholy. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
PLOTTING   A   MINISTER'S   DOWNFALL. 

After  his  conversation  with  President  Older  on 
the  Chautauqua  grounds  Allan  Rutledge  made  no 
further  attempts  to  reconcile  the  alienated  college 
authorities.  He  went  on  with  his  work,  quietly 
and  effectively,  and  sought  to  make  permanent  the 
results  of  his  Gospel  meetings.  In  his  preaching 
he  emphasized  the  practical  side  of  the  Christian 
faith.  With  him  religion  was  not  a  form,  but  a 
power.  He  made  the  Bible  a  new  book  even  to 
many  of  the  older  Christians,  and  inculcated  the 
idea  of  its  practical  value  in  common  life. 

He  had  many  gratifying  signs  of  the  depth  of 
the  wave  of  religious  zeal  which  had  swept  over 
the  community.  Family  worship  began  to  be  prac- 
tised once  more  in  many  families  and  the  home 
life  was  sweetened  and  elevated  through  its  in- 
fluence. The  recklessness  of  the  young  people 
was  checked.  Doubtful  amusements  regarded  as 
dangerous  to  a  consistent  Christian  life,  were 
abandoned  and  became  unpopular  in  Wellington. 

One  of  the  teachers  in  the  public  schools  told 
him  that  since  the  religious  awakening  discipline 
was  enforced  in  the  schoolroom  with  no  difficulty 
•whatever  whereas,  previously,  the  inability  to 

194 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE   195 

keep  order  among  the  pupils  had  occasioned  the 
dismissal  of  several  well  trained  educators. 

But,  as  the  time  for  the  annual  Church  Conven- 
tion drew  near,  Allan  had  evidence  on  every  hand 
that  his  enemies  were  going  to  make  a  most  de- 
termined effort  to  drive  him  from  Wellington. 
President  Older  had  now  become  the  open  leader 
of  the  war  on  the  successful  young  minister.  The 
college  president  had  gained  over  to  his  side  the 
ecclesiastical  "machine"  of  the  State,  for  "boss 
rule"  has  cursed  Church  and  State  alike  in  free 
America. 

Not  content  with  discrediting  Allan  among  the 
leaders  of  the  Church  in  Iowa,  President  Older 
sought  to  weaken  his  hands  by  raising  up  oppo- 
sition in  the  Church  throughout  the  country. 
The  worst  blow  Allan  received  was  a  letter, 
which  came  from  one  of  his  old  theological  pro- 
fessors in  Boston.  It  was  as  follows: 

"Boston,  Mass.,  August  2,  190 — . 
"Rev.  Allan  Rutledge,  Wellington,  Iowa. 

"Dear  Sir:  I  am  greatly  grieved  to  hear  that  you 
have  shown  such  a  lack  of  tact  and  judgment  as 
to  attack  one  of  our  institutions  in  the  West  which 
has  large  vested  interests.  Wherever  our  Church 
has  such  vested  interests  any  attack,  such  as  you 
have  made  on  Wellington  College,  is  very  wrong, 
as  we  must  protect  the  property  of  the  Church. 

"I  understand   that  your  attack  on  the  college 

'"'has  united  the  college  forces  in  Wellington  against 

you.     Since  this  is  the  case,  I  write  to  advise  you 

to  resign  at  once,  as  we  cannot  afford,  under  any 


196  THE   VICTORY  OF 

circumstances,  to  allow  our  vested  interests  to  suf- 
fer. Yours  truly,  Augustus  Beard,  D.D." 

Allan  read  this  letter  to  Deacon  Stanford,  and 
found  warm  sympathy  in  the  heart  of  the  good 
deacon. 

"Think  of  it!"  exclaimed  the  deacon  in  right- 
eous indignation.  "That  theological  professor 
thinks  more  of  'vested  interests'  than  he  does  of 
the  souls  and  lives  of  men.  Such  clergymen  as 
he  betray  the  cause  of  our  Saviour,  just  as  Judas 
did!" 

"No,  no,"  replied  Allan.  "Dr.  Beard  simply 
does  not  understand  the  situation  out  here.  The 
East  has  often  misunderstood  the  West  and  the 
problems  of  this  new  country." 

"Dr.  Beard  had  a  full  knowledge  of  the  situation, 
I  am  sure,"  persisted  the  deacon.  "The  trouble  is 
that  he  is  one  of  these  men  who  think  that  dollars 
are  of  more  value  than  people,  and  yet  he  pretends 
to  be  a  follower  of  Jesus.  He  does  not  say  a  word 
about  the  success  of  your  work  in  the  church." 

Allan  sighed  and  made  no  reply.  He  was,  in- 
deed, astonished  to  find  so  little  sympathy  in  his 
earnest  work  for  righteousness.  Many  of  his 
brother  ministers  seemed  glad  of  the  opportunity 
~o  overthrow  him.  He  heard  of  a  minister  in  a 
neighboring  town  who  had  preached  a  sermon  on 
"False  Evangelism,"  and  who  even  went  so  far  as 
to  say : 

"There  is  that  man,  Rutledge,  the  most  talked- 
of  man  in  Iowa  at  present.  He  will  soon  leave 
Wellington  and  never  be  heard  of  again.  We  want 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  197 

a   quiet    evangelism,   which   does   not   disturb   the 
peace  and  harmony  of  the  Church." 

This  minister's  name  was  Dr.  Warren  Miller. 
He  was  the  pastor  of  an  important  church  and 
was  a  close  friend  of  President  Older. 

Not  long  after  Frederick  Markley  had  given  his 
father  such  a  stunning  blow  in  the  interview,  in 
which  the  son  compelled  elder  Markley,  under 
threats,  to  give  him  a  thousand  dollars,  these  two 
influential  leaders  in  the  Church  in  Iowa  met  for 
a  conference. 

It  was  almost  time  for  the  annual  Church  Con- 
vention and  they  met  to  mature  their  plans.  Dur- 
ing their  conversation  President  Older  remarked: 

"Something  has  come  over  Markley  recently. 
He  seems  to  have  lost  interest  in  our  efforts  to  rid 
ourselves  of  this  Rutledge.  I  asked  him  to  come 
with  me  to-day,  but  he  refused." 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Dr.  Miller,  in  alarm. 
"Rutledge  has  not  hypnotized  him,  too,  has  he? 
Surely  after  slandering  his  son,  as  Rutledge  did, 
Mr.  Markley  will  continue  to  fight  him !" 

"I  certainly  hope  so,"  responded  President 
Older,  "but  something  has  made  him  lose  interest 
lately.  He  used  to  come  and  see  me  almost  every 
day,  and  he  was  intensely  bitter  against  Rutledge, 
but  last  Sunday  he  was  out  at  church  again." 

"Was  he  actually  at  church?"  exclaimed  Dr. 
Miller.  "That  is  too  bad.  I  am  afraid  some  influ- 
ences are  at  work  which  we  must  counteract." 
•  Ah,  be  careful,  Dr.  Warren  Miller!  Influences 
are  at  work,  as  powerful  as  Niagara  and  as  con- 
stant as  gravitation,  which  neither  you  nor  the 


198  THE   VICTORY  OF 

strongest  man  on  earth  can  counteract.  The  law 
of  the  harvest  is  beginning  to  make  itself  felt  in 
Wellington.  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall 
he  also  reap.  For  many  years  Elder  Markley  has 
been  sowing  to  the  wind.  He  is  now  about  to 
reap  the  whirlwind.  He  has  sown  a  selfish,  self- 
centered  life.  He  is  about  to  reap  his  awful  har- 
vest in  accordance  with  the  unchanging  law  of  the 
universe. 

"My  wife  was  at  church  last  Sunday,"  continued 
President  Older,  "and  she  said  that  elder  Markley 
listened  most  attentively  to  the  sermon.  Rutledge 
was  preaching  on  the  Prodigal  Son,  and,  once  or 
twice,  she  thought  she  saw  Markley  weeping.  W"e 
must  do  something,  or  I  fear  Rutledge  will  win 
him  over." 

"I  will  write  him  a  letter,"  said  Dr.  Miller.  "I 
think  I  can  stir  him  up  again.  If  we  have  his  help 
in  the  convention  I  am  sure  we  can  give  Rutledge 
what  he  deserves." 

Accordingly,  a  day  or  two  after  this,  Elder 
Markley  received  the  following  letter  from  Dr. 
Warren  Miller: 

"My  Dear  Markley:  I  was  so  sorry  you  could 
not  come  with  President  Older  to-day.  We  have 
arranged  all  our  plans  to  remove  Rutledge  from 
Wellington  by  a  vote  of  the  Convention.  We  feel 
it  is  due  to  you,  as  well  as  to  the  college,  that 
we  disgrace  him  as  far  as  we  can,  for  he  has 
dragged  your  son's  good  name  in  the  mire  all 
through  the  State  by  mentioning  him  in  connec- 
tion with  his  slanderous  attack  on  Wellington 
College.  Be  sure  to  be  present  at  the  Conven- 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  199 

tion,  as  we  need  your  help.  Rutledge  is  a  clever 
politician,  and  he  may  outwit  us  if  we  are  not  on 
our  guard.  Yours  cordially, 

"Warren  Miller,  D.D." 

Elder  Markley  read  this  letter  with  little  inter- 
est. He  seemed  to  have  lost  his  mental  grip  on 
things.  A  shock  to  the  mind  and  heart  stuns  a 
man  like  a  blow  on  the  head.  He  had  not  spoken 
half  a  dozen  words  to  his  son  since  that  fatal 
morning.  Frederick  Markley  went  around  heed- 
less and  defiant,  most  of  the  time  plainly  under  the 
influence  of  liquor.  But  if  elder  Markley  had 
ceased,  his  active  campaign  on  the  minister  others 
were  busy. 

Deacon  Stanford  came  to  see  Allan  one  morn- 
ing in  a  state  of  high  excitement. 

"I  have  just  heard,  Mr.  Rutledge,"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  sparkling  eye,  "that  President 
Older,  Dr.  Miller,  Dr.  Oudrey  and  some  other 
prominent  Iowa  clergymen  have  it  all  arranged  to 
remove  you  from  Wellington  at  the  Convention 
without  so  much  as  asking  a  vote  from  the  congre- 
gation. It  is  outrageous,  sir !  These  men  may 
call  themselves  ministers  of  Christ,  but  they  act 
like  agents  of  the  devil.  No  wonder  preachers 
are  getting  a  bad  name  when  a  lot  of  them  will 
treat  you  as  they  do.  I  call  it  an  outrage  on  com- 
mon decency,  to  say  nothing  about  Christianity," 
and  Deacon  Stanford  brought  his  hand  down  with 
a  bang  on  Allan's  desk. 

"Have  you  heard  anything  lately?"  asked  Allan 
calmly. 

"Yes,  just  this  morning  Mr.  Daniels  told  me  all 


200  THE   VICTORY  OF 

about  it.  They  think  he  is  still  your  enemy,  but 
ever  since  the  night  of  the  fire  he  has  been  your 
warmest  friend.  President  Older  is  at  the  bottom 
of  it,  though  I  blame  Elder  Markley  too.  Poor 
Markley!  something  seems  wrong  with  him.  I 
think  he  is  worried  over  his  son,  Frederick.  The 
young  man  is  going  down  hill  fast  this  summer." 

"What  can  we  do?"  asked  Allan,  with  complete 
composure. 

"I  know  what  I  am  going  to  do.  I  am  going  to 
call  on  Markley  to-morrow  at  his  office  and  have 
a  square  talk  with  him.  Dr.  Lucas  and  some  of 
us  have  decided  these  college  fellows  have  gone  as 
far  as  we  are  going  to  let  them." 

"I  am  going  to  hold  a  memorial  service  for  Louis 
Antoine  at  Markley's  factory  to-morrow  at  noon," 
responded  Allan,  "and  I  was  going  to  invite  you 
to  be  present.  The  men"  arranged  it  themselves. 
They  will  meet  outside  in  the  shade  of  the  trees. 
Markley's  men  and  the  firemen,  with  their  families, 
will  be  present  and  I  look  for  a  good  meeting.  I 
want  you  to  come  as  a  representative  of  Welling- 
ton Church,  and  perhaps  you  can  see  Mr.  Markley 
afterward." 

"Just  the  thing,"  replied  the  deacon.  "Poor 
Antoine!  We  miss  him.  He  had  become  a  great 
lielp  in  the  church  among  his  own  people,  the  Bo- 
hemians. You  know  they  are  hard  to  reach,  but 
Antoine  was  getting  them  one  by  one." 

"I  will  try  to  do  justice  to  his  memory,"  said 
the  minister.  "Such  men  are  heroes,  as  worthy 
of  praise  as  John  Huss  or  Martin  Luther.  And 
don't  trouble  about  my  enemies,"  added  Allan. 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  201 

"It  may  be  best  for  you  to  see  Markley,  but  I  am 
sure  the  Convention  will  not  blindly  follow  the 
leadership  of  President  Older  in  this  matter.  God 
still  has  something  to  say  in  regard  to  the  affairs 
of  his  Church  on  earth." 

"These  men  who  are  fighting  you  leave  God 
out  altogether,"  responded  the  deacon,  his  indig- 
nation rising  again.  "I  don't  wonder  there  are  so 
many  infidels  when  preachers  act  as  these  men  are 
doing." 

"It  will  come  out  all  right,  never  fear,"  said 
Allan  confidently.  "The  Church  is  not  perfect, 
and  I  am  beginning  to  see  that  some  of  the  lead- 
ers in  the  Church  have  strange  ideas  of  right  and 
wrong,  but  God's  Church  will  be  purified  and 
God's  work  among  men  carried  on  in  spite  of  the 
presence  of  the  modern  Judas  and  Ananias.  The 
unhung  Judas  and  the  unexposed  Ananias  will  soon 
be  brought  to  confusion.  God  has  surely  blessed 
us  in  the  Wellington  Church,  and  we  must  not 
grieve  him  by 'doubting  his  care  and  guidance." 

His  tone  of  assurance  gave  Deacon  Stanford 
new  confidence  and  he  answered  earnestly:  "Mr. 
Rutledge,  you  are  right.  I  am  confident  you  will 
win.  However,  I  will  see  Markley  to-morrow 
after  your  memorial  servrce." 

When  Deacon  Stanford  went  away,  Allan  pon- 
dered long  and  earnestly  on  the  attitude  of  Presi- 
dent Older  and  the  other  leading  ministers  toward 
him. 

^'It  is  war  to  the  knife,  and  knife  to  the  hilt 
with  them,  I  very  plainly  see,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"but  I  am  right,  and  if  a  man  in  the  right  is  cast 


202  THE   VICTORY  OF 

out,  I  will  go  gladly,  for  I  prefer  a  prison  with  the 
right  rather  than  a  palace  with  the  wrong.  I  shall 
talk  plainly  in  the  Convention,  and  if  my  fellow- 
ministers  stand  up  for  the  college,  when  the  col- 
lege is  in  the  wrong,  I  am  done  with  their  fellow- 
ship, for  I  will  then  know  that  the  charges  against 
the  Church,  which  we  hear  on  every  hand,  are 
true.  I  will  know  the  Church  is  an  effete  institu- 
tion, and  I  shall  go  outside  the  camp  with  Christ, 
bearing  his  reproach." 

Having  thus  resolved,  Allan  gave  himself  to  the 
preparation  of  his  memorial  address  for  the  next 
day. 

The  men  in  the  paint  shop  had  arranged  for  the 
services.  They  were  to  be  held  on  the  large 
vacant  spot  on  the  east  side  of  the  factory,  where 
there  was  good  shade  from  a  number  of  large  oak 
trees.  The  families  of  the  men  were  to  be  present, 
and  a  great  crowd  was  expected. 

"Poor  Louis !"  said  Pat  McGinnis  in  the  paint 
shop  the  day  previous  to  this  memorial  service 
just  about  the  time  Deacon  Stanford  and  Allan 
Rutledge  were  talking  together.  "Poor  Louis !  he 
well  desarves  the  honor.  His  rivirince  has  asked 
me  to  spake  a  word  about  his  last  farewell.  I'll 
try  to  do  it,  but  I'm  afeared  I'll  break  down." 

"Did  you  ask  Mr.  Markley  and  the  men  in  the 
office  to  be  present?"  asked  Foreman  McGregor. 

"I  did,  begorra,"  replied  the  Irishman,  "and  they 
tould  me  they  would  be  there,  shure  The  boss 
said  he  was  glad  we  were  going  to  have  such  a 
sarvice." 

"Mr.  Rutledge  wants  the  men  from    the    paint 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  203 

shop  to  sit  on  the  platform  with  him,"  went  on 
the  foreman. 

"That's  all  right,"  one  of  the  men  rejoined. 
"None  of  them  miss  Antoine  as  we  do." 

And  so  this  strange  service  was  arranged  for. 
It  meant  more  than  appeared  on  the  surface.  It 
meant  that  these  humble  foreign  toilers  in  the  fac- 
tory had  begun  to  appreciate  their  own  worth. 
When  a  Senator  dies,  especially  if  he  dies  in  some 
heroic  way,  his  fellow-Senators  do  him  honor  in 
a  public  manner.  So  these  factory  men,  under  the 
inspiration  of  Allan  Rutledge's  teaching,  had  be- 
gun to  see  the  worth  and  grandeur  of  man  as  man, 
and  when  a  true  man,  like  Louis  Antoine,  died  as 
a  hero,  doing  his  duty,  the  desire  to  honor  his 
memory  was  spontaneous. 

Some  of  the  supercilious  in  Wellington  sniffed 
at  the  idea  of  making  so  much  ado  over  a  "Bohe- 
mian painter,"  but  the  majority  of  the  people 
looked  with  a  new  respect  on  these  humble  work- 
ers, who  showed  their  appreciation  of  genuine 
worth  when  it  appeared  among  themselves,  with- 
out any  of  the  tinsel  of  earth. 

The  day  of  the  memorial  service  was  long  re- 
membered, for  some  startling  results  came  from 
the  meeting. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
EVERY   MAN'S  SOUL  A  KINGDOM. 

"Bhoys,  he  tould  me  to  say  good-by  to  ye,  and 
to  say  that  "he  was  ready  to  go  and  that  he  died 
a  Christian." 

There  was  a  break  in  the  voice  of  Pat  McGinnis 
as  he  delivered  the  last  message  of  Louis  Antoine 
at  the  memorial  service.  The  service  was  held  in 
the  open  air,  on  a  green,  shaded,  open  space  be- 
side the  factory.  It  was  a  thrilling  sight  to  see 
the  great  crowd  of  toilers  and  their  families, 
fringed  with  a  number  of  other  citizens,  gathered 
together  to  do  honor  to  the  memory  of  a  Bohe- 
mian painter. 

On  the  rude  platform,  along  with  the  minister,. 
Rev.  Allan  Rutledge,  were  the  workmen  from  the 
paint  shop,  including  Steen,  the  converted  Eng- 
lishman, who  had  been  given  Antoine's  place  at 
the  request  of  Grace  Markley.  Most  of  the  men 
were  in  their  rough,  working  clothes,  but  the  fam- 
ilies were  dressed  in  their  best  fashion. 

Among  the  audience  Allan  saw  Elder  Markley 
and  his  daughter,  Grace,  Deacon  Stanford  and  a 
number  of  the  members  of  the  church.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Frisbie  were  seated  a  little  to  the  left  of  the 
platform,  not  far  from  the  front.  Allan  noticed 

204 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  205 

them  at  once  and  he  was  touched  with  the  mourn- 
ful look  on  Mrs.  Frisbie's  face.  She  had  attended 
the  church  service  on  the  previous  Sabbath,  and 
had  heard  the  sermon  on  the  "Prodigal  Son," 
which  had  appealed  to  Elder  Markley.  That  oft- 
told  story  had  also  found  a  lodgment  in  her  heart, 
and  Mr.  Frisbie  had  strange  feelings  as  he  saw  his 
hitherto  frivolous  wife  weeping  during  the  sermon. 
She  had  proposed  attending  the  memorial  service, 
much  to  her  husband's  delight. 

After  Pat  McGinnis  had  given  Antoine's  last 
message  to  his  fellow-workers,  Allan  asked  the 
audience  to  sing,  and,  leading  them  himself,  they, 
all  joined  in  singing  the  hymn : 

"Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love." 

They  sang  it  with  a  ring  of  sincerity  in  their 
^voices  which  amply  atoned  for  any  lack  of  musi- 
cal culture. 

The  nature  of  the  service,  the  strange  surround- 
ings, the  influence  of  a  meeting  held  in  God's  great 
out-of-doors,  all  conspired  to  make  the  occasion 
unusually  impressive. 

The  minister  had  felt  his  responsibility  and  had 
thoroughly  prepared  himself.  If  he  had  been  in- 
vited before  our  National  Congress  to  deliver  an 
oration  at  a  memorial  service  there,  in  honor  of  a 
'  statesman  of  world-wide  renown,  he  could  not 
lia-ye  shown  more  respect  for  his  audience,  or  pre- 
pared more  carefully  his  address.  He  began  in 
his  usual  quiet  way,  supplementing  the  few  re- 


206  THE   VICTORY  OF 

marks  made  by  Pat  McGinnis,  and  declaring  that 
he  felt  honored  to  be  asked  to  speak  on  such  an 
occasion. 

"We  are  here  to  do  honor  to  a  man,"  he 
went  on  to  say,  while  the  people  listened  with  rapt 
attention,  "who  gave  his  life  in  devotion  to  his  duty. 
It  was  a  part  of  the  new  life  which  Louis  Antoine 
had  begun  to  live,  for  he  joined  the  volunteer  fire 
department  after  his  conversion.  Often  he  told 
me,  with  regret,  of  his  old  life,  which  he  had  lived 
as  a  blasphemer  and  infidel,  but  he  used  to  say, 
with  great  pathos :  'I  obtaind  pardon  because  I  did 
it  ignorantly  in  unbelief.'  Our  hero  became  the 
true  man  he  was  when  he  first  came  to  know  the 
Lord  Jesus.  You  all  know  the  change  that  passed 
over  his  life.  He  was  like  an  open  book,  known 
and  read  of  all  men.  He  lived  in  the  sunlight." 

As  Allan  spoke  in  this  way  of  their  comrade  the 
men  seemed  to  take  on  a  new  sense  of  dignity. 
Amid  intense  stillness,  the  minister  continued:  "In 
honoring  true  worth,  wherever  it  is  found,  men 
show  themselves  divine.  When  the  apostles  saw 
through  the  poverty  and  humiliation  that  sur- 
rounded the  earthly  life  of  our  Lord  Jesus,  and 
fastened  their  eyes  in  wonder  and  praise  upon  the 
spotless  character  and  noble  soul  of  their  Master, 
they  proved  their  own  worthiness.  In  spite  of  the 
contempt  heaped  upon  their  Lord  by  the  learned 
and  great  of  that  age,  they  bowed  their  hearts  in 
humble  reverence  before  him.  and  the  world  has 
since  held  these  apostles  in  honor  as  first  among 
men. 

"So    to-day    we    reverence    Louis    Antoine.     He 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  207 

was  a  man.  Nay,  he  was  a  king,  a  true  king,  for 
every  man's  soul  is  a  kingdom,  and  the  man  who 
rules  that  kingdom  well  is  a  king,  whether  he  is 
crowned  or  uncrowned.  Let  the  life  and  death  of 
Louis  Antoine  teach  us  all  self-reverence.  The 
highest  things  in  life  are  possible  for  every  one  of 
you.  You  can  all  be  kings  and  queens,  and  your 
children  can  be  princes  and  princesses. 

"Oh/  that  men  and  women  knew  their  own 
worth !"  exclaimed  the  speaker,  as  his  eye  ran  over 
the  crowd  of  artisans  before  him.  "They  would 
hold  themselves  in  reverence  and  would  not  sell 
their  souls  so  cheaply.  Abraham  Lincoln  lives  to- 
day in  the  heart  of  humanity  as  worthy  of  all 
honor  because  his  soul  was  without  price.  He 
could  not  be  bought.  All  the  pleasures,  honors, 
fame  and  riches  of  the  world  could  not  have  pur- 
chased his  integrity. 

"What  a  tragedy  we  see,"  he  continued,  "when 
men  and  women  despise  their  heavenly  birthright 
and  sell  out  their  souls  for  a  mess  of  pottage. 
When  self-respect  is  gone,  how  fearful  the  sight, 
whether  the  man  is  a  crowned  king,  like  Ahab,  or 
a  jeweled  queen,  like  Cleopatra." 

As  he  uttered  these  words  in  deep  earnestness 
and  sincerity,  a  stillness  was  over  the  crowd.  The 
sound  of  a  passing  wagon  on  a  distant  street  was 
distinctly  audible.  The  eyes  of  all  were  fastened 
on  him,  but  amid  the  crowd  of  faces  he  could  clear- 
ly distinguish  two,  Mrs.  Frisbie  and  Elder  Mark- 
^ey.  He  could  see  they  were  listening  with  a 
pathetic  eagerness. 

"I   mourn   to-day,"   the    speaker   concluded,   "on 


208  THE   VICTORY  OF 

my  own  account,  for  Antoine  was  a  valued  friend. 
I  loved  him  as  a  brother  in  Christ.  I  honored  him 
as  a  man  with  a  passion  for  righteousness.  I  rev- 
erenced him  as  a  king,  who  ruled  well  the  kingdom 
of  his  own  soul.  Let  us  hold  such  men  in  rever- 
ence. Let  us  keep  their  memory  green.  In  do- 
ing this  we  honor  ourselves." 

The  people  sat  still  for  several  moments  after 
he  had  ceased  speaking  and  had  closed  the  service. 
Then  they  quietly  began  to  disperse.  The  visitors 
and  the  wives  and  children  wended  their  ways  to 
their  homes  in  silence. 

In  a  few  moments  the  factory  whistle  blew  and 
the  men  went  back  to  work.  But  a  close  ob- 
server would  have  seen  a  calmer,  steadier  look  in 
the  men's  eyes,  a  nobler  bearing  in  their  walk,  and 
more  manliness  in  their  whole  carriage  after  the 
unusual  memorial  service. 

Elder  Markley  had  gone  at  once  to  his  office 
when  the  services  ended,  and  was  sitting  with  his 
head  bowed  on  the  desk  when  a  knock  came  to  the 
door. 

"Come  in!"  he  said,  rousing  himself. 

The  door  opened  and  Deacon  Stanford  entered. 

"How  are  you,  Mr.  Markley?"  he  asked  him  in 
greeting,  as  he  advanced  with  outstretched  hand. 
"I  must  congratulate  you  on  the  fine  body  of 
workmen  that  you  have.  That  was  a  grand  ser- 
vice and  I  understand  your  men  got  it  up  them- 
selves." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  other  absent-mindedly,  "my 
men  have  given  me  very  little  trouble  in  the  last 
few  months." 


ALLAH  RUT  LEDGE  209 

"I  think  I  know  the  reason,"  rejoined  Deacon 
Stanford,  anxious  to  begin  the  conversation  on  the 
topic  which  he  had  come  to  discuss.  "The  story  of 
Louis  Antoine  has  been  the  story  of  many  of  your 
men  since  Mr.  Rutledge  came  to  Wellington." 

Elder  Markley  was  silent. 

"I  called  to  see  you  to-day,"  went  on  the  deacon, 
plunging  into  the  matter  next  his  heart,  "in  regard 
to  this  fight  which  President  Older  and  some 
others  are  making  on  our  minister.  Don't  you 
think  it  is  high  time  that  that  thing  was  stopped?" 

Still  the  elder  was  silent. 

"I  have  heard  that  it  is  all  arranged,"  continued 
Deacon  Stanford,  with  rising  voice,  "to  have  the 
annual  Convention  remove  Mr.  Rutledge  from  our 
church.  Have  you  heard  anything  about  it?" 

Elder  Markley  roused  himself.  The  old,  bitter 
sparkle  came  into  his  eye.  His  old  nature  began 
to  reassert  itself. 

"I  don't  think  anyone  can  blame  President  Older 
for  opposing  Rutledge,"  he  said,  with  more  spirit 
than  he  had  shown  since  his  son's  visit  to  him 
several  days  before. 

"Patience  ceases  to  be  a  virtue,  sir!"  responded 
the  deacon.  "I  am  entirely  out  of  patience  with 
President  Older  in  this  matter.  Has  not  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  brought  a  new  life  and  a  new  spirit  to  our 
community?  Anyone  can  see  it.  Look  at  that 
service  we  have  just  attended.  Would  such  a 
thing  have  been  dreamed  of  a  year  ago?" 
**Markley  again  lapsed  into  silence,  and  the  dea- 
con, with  his  blood  stirred  to  righteous  indigna- 
tion, went  on: 


210  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"There  are  scores  of  parents  whose  boys  and 
girls  were  in  danger  who  are  rejoicing  to-day  be- 
cause we  have  a  minister  who  boldly  teaches  God's 
truth  and  condemns  sin  outright.  Except  your 
own  son,  there  is  hardly  one  of  our  young  men 
but  has  turned  over  a  new  leaf  and  become  a  pride 
to  his  parents.  If  you  had  acted  differently 
toward  our  new  minister,  I  am  sure  Mr.  Rutledge 
could  have  influenced  Frederick.  I  often  saw  him 
much  affected  during  the  first  few  weeks  that  Mr. 
Rutledge  was  with  us.  He  is  worse  than  ever 
now,  and  you  are  to  blame." 

Deacon  Stanford  was  not  cruel,  but  he  was 
aroused  that  day,  and  he  had  no  idea  what  a 
wound  he  was  making  in  Elder  Markley's  heart. 
As  the  deacon  finished  Elder  Markley  turned 
toward  him,  his  face  pale  and  full  of  pain  and 
grief. 

"Deacon  Stanford,"  he  almost  moaned,  "I  did 
not  think  you  were  the  man  to  mock  a  father  who 
well  knows  the  faults  of  his  son  and  regrets  them 
bitterly." 

As  he  spoke  Elder  Markley  put  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  his  long,  pent-up  emotion  gave  way  at 
last  in  bitter  tears. 

"What's  the  matter,  friend  Markley?"  said  the 
deacon,  at  length,  in  a  sympathetic  voice,  putting 
his  hand  on  Markley's  shoulder. 

"My  boy,  my  boy!"  moaned  the  stricken  parent. 

"What  has  Frederick  been  doing  now?"  asked 
Deacon  Stanford,  in  alarm. 

Unable  longer  to  keep  his  grief  and  disappoint- 
ment to  himself,  Elder  Markley  related  to  the  dea- 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 

con  his  son's  grievous  act  of  rebellion,  which  had 
culminated  in  an  entire  break  between  the  two. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  he  added  pathetical- 
ly. "He  is  entirely  beyond  my  control.  I  never 
expected  a  son  of  mine  to  turn  out  a  wreck  as  he 
has." 

Elder  Markley  had  had  good  New  England 
training.  He  was  greedy,  grasping  and  selfish, 
but  his  personal  habits  had  always  been  free  from 
any  taint  of  viciousness,  and  he  had  prided  him- 
self on  the  respectability  of  his  family.  He  had 
suddenly  awakened  to  find  himself  on  the  verge 
of  a  precipice.  He  was  not  sorry  for  anything  in 
his  own  life  and  did  not  blame  himself  at  all,  but 
he  was  mortified  to  the  quick  to  see  his  son  such 
a  scandalous  failure  in  life. 

"Markley,"  said  his  friend  gravely,  "you  have 
not  given  your  son  a  fair  chance.  I  remember 
when  I  thought  Frederick  Markley  was  one  of  the 
most  promising  boys  in  Wellington.  You  have 
been  too  lax  with  him,  and  you  have  spoiled  him 
with  overindulgence.  Frederick  is  not  naturally 
vicious.  He  may  yet  be  saved." 

"I  acknowledge,"  answered  the  humiliated 
father,  "I  have  been  too  generous  in  giving  him 
money  to  squander,  but  outside  of  that  I  have 
trained  him  for  a  respectable  life." 

The  deacon  shook  his  head,  but  made  no  reply. 
He  did  not  want  to  add  to  Markley's  grief,  but  in 
''his  own  mind  he  was  convinced  that  Elder  Mark- 
ley  was  responsible  for  his  son's  failure  to  a  very 
large  degree. 


212  THE   VICTORY   OF 

"You  are  not  going  to  Des  Moines,  then?"  said 
Deacon  Stanford,  when  he  was  about  to  leave. 

"No,"  replied  Elder  Markley.  "I  have  no  heart 
for  anything.  Perhaps  Rutledge  is  the  man  for 
this  place  after  all,  though  I  have  had  little  use  up 
to  this  time  for  the  man  or  his  preaching.  If  he 
could  only  help  Frederick — "  And  the  father 
again  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"Friend  Markley,"  said  the  kind-hearted  deacon, 
with  a  tear  in  his  eye,  "trust  in  God.  I  feel  sure 
Mr.  Rutledge  can  reach  Frederick  since  you  have 
ceased  to  oppose  him.  A  boy  with  a  sister  like 
Grace  Markley  cannot  surely  be  b.eyond  redemp- 
tion." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Stanford,  you  have  done  me 
good.  Grace  is  a  noble  girl.  I  have  never  appre- 
ciated her  before.  If  in  any  way  I  can  help  Fred- 
erick to  be  a  man  again  I  want  to  do  it." 

The  men  shook  hands  warmly,  and  Deacon  Stan- 
ford walked  out  of  the  office,  assured  that  he  could 
now  defeat  any  trick  of  President  Older  in  the 
Convention. 

"Our  church  is  now  unanimous,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "It  is  President  Older  who  will  leave  Well- 
ington, or  I  miss  my  guess." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  in  Mark- 
ley's  office,  another  tragic  scene  was  being  enacted 
in  one  of  the  Wellington's  homes.  After  he  had 
returned  from  the  memorial  service,  Allan  Rut- 
ledge  sat  for  a  little  while  in  meditation.  He  was 
aroused  by  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door,  and, 
hurrying .  downstairs,  he  found  Mr.  Frisbie  stand- 
ing there  in  a  state  of  great  excitement. 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  213 

"Come  to  my  house  at  once,  Mr.  Rutledge !  We 
need  you,"  he  said,  without  an  introductory  word. 
Allan  at  once  got  his  hat  and  they  walked  rapidly 
down  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the  Frisbie 
home. 

"What's  wrong  now,  Mr.  Frisbie?"  he  asked, 
as  they  hurried  along. 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  the  man  in  great  agi- 
tation. "My  wife  was  much  affected  during  the 
memorial  service,  but  I  did  not  think  very  much 
about  it.  As  soon  as  she  got  home  she  telephoned 
for  me.  I  went  home  from  the  office  as  last  as  I 
could  and  found  her  crying  and  wringing  her 
hands.  She  asked  me  to  take  the  children  to  a 
neighbor's  and  get  you  at  once.  I  can't  under- 
stand it." 

Allan  was  silent.  He  suspected  the  cause  of 
Mrs.  Frisbie's  collapse,  but  he  said  nothing.  When 
they  reached  the  home  they  found  the  unfortunate 
woman  rocking  wildly  in  her  chair,  crying  out 
again  and  again : 

"Why  did  I  do  it?     Why  did  I  do  it?" 

"Here  is  Mr.  Rutledge,"  said  her  husband. 
"Tell  him  what  is  wrong." 

The  woman  stopped  her  rocking  for  an  instant 
and  looked  at  the  minister.  Then  she  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands  and  broke  out  in  a  wail  of  despair. 
Allan's  heart  .was  touched.  Here  was  a  real  peni- 
tent. 

*     "Mrs.  Frisbie,"  he  said  gently,  sitting  down  op- 
posite her,  "tell  us  what  is  on  your  mind." 

"Oh,  I  can't !  I  can't !"  she  cried,  as  in  a  frenzy. 

"Don't    be    afraid,"    urged    the    minister.     "We 


THE   VICTORY  OF 

both  want  to  help  you,  but  we  can  do  nothing  un- 
less you  tell  us  what  is  wrong." 

The  woman  made  no  reply,  except  to  moan. 

"Come,  Emily,"  said  her  husband  kindly,  "don't 
be  afraid  to  tell  us  anything.  There  is  something 
you  ought  to  tell.  Speak  out.  Anything  you  may 
say  to  Mr.  Rutledge  and  me  now  is  sacred." 

"Can  you  forgive  me?"  she  cried.  ''Oh,  hus- 
band, tell  me,  can  you  forgive  me!  Oh,  sir,"  she 
almost  shrieked,  addressing  Mr.  Rutledge,  "will 
God  forgive  me?  Will  he  ever  forgive?" 

"God  forgave  David  when  he  sinned,"  said  the 
minister,  knowing  well  the  cause  of  the  awful  bit- 
terness in  the  woman's  soul.  "Jesus  forgave  the 
woman  who  was  a  sinner.  He  will  forgive  you  if 
you  ask  him." 

Mr.  Frisbie  tried  to  soothe  and  calm  his  wife. 

"I  have  been  forgiven  myself,"  he  said  tenderly 
to  her.  "I  can  forgive  you  if  you  have  wronged 
me." 

Gradually  the  woman  became  calmer.  Then 
came  her  confession.  She  did  not  incriminate  any 
others,  but  she  blamed  the  dance  and  the  church 
choir  for  her  conduct. 

"Before  you  came,  Mr.  Rutledge,"  she  said,  amid 
sobs  which  shook  her  whole  body,  "that  church 
.choir  was  a  school  for  sin.  It  was  awful — awful. 
I  could  tell  more,  but  I  only  confess  my  own  sins." 

"My  God,  are  such  things  possible!"  exclaimed 
the  minister,  as  he  bowed  his  head  in  shame. 

Poor  Mr.  Frisbie.  As  he  realized  the  full  mean- 
ing of  his  wife's  confession,  he  sank  limp  and  help- 
less into  a  chair  and  moaned  as  though  stricken 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  215 

with  mortal  agony.  It  was  well  that  the  minister 
was  present. 

He  spoke  to  both  words  of  comfort  and  hope. 
He  told  how  the  past  was  dead  and  the  future  was 
theirs  to  make  it  a  success. 

"But  I  can't  forget,"  moaned  the  still  unhappy 
woman. 

"God  will  help  you  as  the  days  go  past.  You 
are  not  the  first  to  sin.  Trust  God  for  the  future," 
said  Allan  encouragingly. 

Before  they  left  they  all  knelt  in  prayer,  and 
each  of  them  prayed. 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frisbie  broke  down  and  fin- 
ished their  prayers  with  sobs,  but  God  heard  the 
cry  of  their  hearts. 

Allan  Rutledge  was  the  last  to  pray.  He  never 
prayed  so  earnestly  in  all  his  life  before.  He 
prayed  that  the  sin  might  be  forgiven  and  the 
home  purified  and  rededicated  to  Christ.  He 
prayed  for  the  husband,  wife  and  children,  nam- 
ing each  of  them  in  his  fervent  petition.  He  com- 
mended them  all  to  the  good  Father  who  receives 
every  returning  wanderer  back  into  his  arms  of 
love. 

Then  he  left  them  alone  with  God,  to  renew 
theii  vows  to  him  and  to  each  other. 


CHAPTER  XXL 
A  FISHING  TRIP. 

"I  must  have  a  day  in  God's  great  out-of-doors," 
said  Allan  to  himself  a  few  days  after  the  memor- 
ial services  at  the  Markley  factory. 

The  annual  Convention  at  Des  Moines  met  the 
following  week  and  he  wanted  to  be  at  his  best 
on  that  occasion.  He  well  knew  it  would  be  the 
crisis  of  his  life.  If  the  Convention  removed  him 
from  Wellington  it  would  be  a  staggering  blow  to 
his  whole  future.  In  the  modern  church  those 
who  incur  the  enemity  of  the  ruling  churchmen 
are  not  burned  at  the  stake,  as  John  Huss  and 
Hugh  Latimer  were.  They  are  not  even  im- 
prisoned, as  such  men  were  in  the  times  of  John 
Bunyan  and  George  Fox. 

But  that  does  not  mean  that  modern  churchmen 
cannot  inflict  punishment.  It  was  in  the  power 
of  that  annual  Convention  to  put  a  blighting 
brand  on  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge,  that  only  the  Judg- 
ment Day  could  wipe  out,  and  Allan  well  knew 
that  the  leaders  of  the  ecclesiastical  "machine" 
were  as  anxious  to  brand  him,  as  Latimer's  ene- 
mies were  to  burn  the  uncompromising  English 
preacher.  The  high  pitch  of  excitement  to  which 
almost  every  day  he  had  been  keyed  since  his  re- 

216 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  217 

turn  from  the  old  farm  was  beginning  to  tell  on 
him. 

"Fishing  in  an  Iowa  stream  in  the  summer  time 
is  a  huge  joke,"  he  said  to  himself  aloud,  "but  a 
fishing  trip  will  be  an  excuse  for  me  to  get  into  the 
country  for  a  long  walk." 

Accordingly,  he  took  his  fishing  outfit  and 
started  down  the  railroad  track  to  Elm  Creek,  a 
stream  that  flowed  through  a  beautiful  wooded 
valley,  about  four  miles  south  of  Wellington.  He 
was  dressed  in  a  light  outing  suit,  and  in  spite  of 
the  warmth  of  that  August  morning,  he  was  soon 
a  mile  out  of  the  city.  Here  he  entered  a  thick 
grove,  through  which  the  railroad  wound  with  two 
or  three  sharp  curves.  The  longest  of  these  curves 
was  called  the  "bend"  by  the  natives.  As  Allan 
neared  his  "bend,"  he  noticed  a  figure  ahead  of 
him.  It  was  a  man  walking  up  the  track  slowly 
toward  him,  with  his  head  bowed  and  an  air  of 
dejection  in  his  every  movement.  Allan  startsd 
as  he  recognized  Frederick  Markley.  With  low- 
ered head,  deep  in  thought  the  former  choir  leader 
of  the  Wellington  Church  ambled  slowly  along  so 
preoccupied  that  he  did  not  hear  Allan's  footsteps 
until  the  minister  was  almost  upon  him. 

Allan  regarded  the  young  man  closely  as  he 
approached  him.  He  had  not  met  him  since  the 
eventful  night  at  Wellington  College  and  he  was 
surprised  to  note  the  changes  in  him  since  that 
time.  His  face  was  pale,  haggard  and  drawn, 
^lis  entire  mien  was  dejected,  utterly  unlike  the 
bold  Frederick  Markley  he  had  met  at  the  station 
when  he  first  arrived  in  Wellington  less  than  a 


218  THE   VICTORY  OF 

year  before.  The  minister's  heart  smote  him. 
Perhaps  he  had  been  too  severe.  This  young  man 
was  a  brother  to  Grace  Markley,  and  he  plainly 
needed  help.  Allan  decided  to  meet  the  young 
man  in  the  friendliest  way. 

"Hello !"  he  said  frankly,  as  young  Markley  at 
last  heard  his  footfall  and  looked  up  with  a  quick, 
startled,  frightened  glance.  "A  fine  morning,  Mr. 
Markley,"  the  minister  continued.  "I  just  had  to 
get  some  country  air  to-day,  and  I  am  going  on  a 
fishing  expedition  to  Elm  Creek." 

But  the  blood-shot  eyes  of  Frederick  Markley 
gave  no  response  to  the  minister's  cordial  greet- 
ing. Allan  could  see  that  the  young  man  was 
partly  under  the  influence  of  liquor. 

"Rutledge,"  he  replied,  with  an  unsteady  glare 
in  his  eyes,  "I  have  not  met  you  since  that  night 
at  the  college.  I  want  to  settle  that  matter.  I 
challenge  you  to  a  duel,  sir." 

"Forgive  me,  Mr.  Markley  if  I  acted  rudely  that 
night.  I  was  excited,"  answered  the  minister, 
speaking  with  great  earnestness.  "I  also  wanted 
to  see  you  about  mentioning  your  name  in  my 
article  in  the  'Gazette.'  I  have  already  told  your 
sister,  as  you  know,  that  I  regretted  it,"  Allan 
went  on.  "I  was  too  hasty,  but,  Mr.  Markley,  you 
know  we  all  make  mistakes.  I  want  to  be  your 
friend." 

The  minister's  reply  was  so  unexpecetd  that  it 
almost  dazed  young  Markley  for  a  moment.  He 
made  no  reply,  but  stared  in  astonishment  at 
Allan. 

"I  mean  what  I  say,"  he  continued.     "I  am  in 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  219 

Wellington  to  help  everyone  who  needs  any  help 
I  can  give,  and  I  think  I  can  be  of  service  to  you, 
if  you  will  only  let  me." 

His  kind  tone  made  an  impression.  Just  before 
they  met  Frederick  Markley  had  been  cursing  his 
fate  that  he  was  so  friendless.  Even  his  father  had 
apparently  cast  him  off.  To  hear  the  man  whom 
he  had  looked  upon  as  his  bitter  enemy  speak  as 
Allan  Rutledge  had  spoken  unmanned  him.  The 
depths  of  his  nature  were  broken  up. 

"Sir,"  he  said  to  the  minister,  with  a  terrible 
earnestness  that  Allan  never  forgot,  "I  never  had 
a  chance  in  life.  I  was  brought  up  to  have  my 
own  way  in  everything  and  taught  by  my  own 
father  to  drink.  His  money  has  ruined  me.  I 
once  believed*  as  my  sister  does,  but  now  all  is 
gone." 

There  was  a  hopelessness  in  his  voice  that  was 
pathetic.  Allan's  heart  gave  a  bound.  Out  of 
hopelessness  like  this  comes  the  victory  of  faith. 
Perhaps  he  could  win  a  new  convert  to  the  Chris- 
tian faith,  and  that  convert  Grace's  brother. 

"Frederick,"  he  began,  in  a  kind,  sympathetic 
voice,  laying  his  hand  on  his  shoulder,  "I  am  much 
interested  in  you.  You  could  be  a  power  for  good 
in  Wellington,  just  as  your  sister  is,  if  you  will 
accept  your  sister's  faith  and  begin  to  lead  a  Chris- 
tian life.  If  you  do  this  your  influence  will  be  tre- 
mendous. Can't  you  leave  sin  and  live  for  God?" 

The  young  man  hesitated.  Allan  saw  that  he 
was  trembling  like  a  leaf.  The  destiny  of  his  soul 
seemed  to  hang  in  the  balance. 

"Decide   aright.     There   is   only   one   way   for   a 


220  THE   VICTORY   OF 

man  to  live,"  persisted  the  minister,  feeling  that 
Frederick  Markley's  salvation  was  at  hand. 

"It  is  too  late,  too  late!"  at  length  he  answered 
in  a  despairing  tone. 

"It  is  never  too  late,"  said  the  minister  earnestly. 
"The  past  can  be  blotted  out." 

The  young  man  looked  around  him  with  a  look 
of  agony,  as  he  exclaimed:  "My  past  cannot  be 
blotted  out!  It  is  too  late,  too  late!" 

With  these  words  young  Markley  turned,  and 
walked  rapidly  up  the  track  toward  Wellington. 

Allan's  first  impulse  was  to  follow  him,  but  he 
was  assured  that  reflection  would  lead  the  now 
penitent  man  into  the  truth,  and  he  determined  to 
see  him  again  as  soon  as  he  could.  Little  did  he 
dream  under  what  circumstances  he  would  con- 
front Frederick  Markley  again. 

By  the  time  he  reached  Elm  Creek,  Allan  was 
glad  to  seek  the  shade  of  a  friendly  elm  and  rest 
under  its  plumelike  foliage.  Arranging  his  fishing 
tackle,  he  began  his  sport  as  a  disciple  of  Isaak 
Walton  and  Henry  van  Dyke.  But  fishing  at  that 
season  in  an  Iowa  stream  was  what  Allan  called 
it-1— a  "joke."  It  is  useless  to  try  the  fly,  on  ac- 
count of  the  muddy  bottoms,  and  the  fish  seem 
to  have  ample  food  supply  from  the  rich  river 
banks  without  troubling  a  fisherman's  dangerous 
bait.  Allan  was  glad  to  hear  someone  coming  up 
the  bank  of  the  creek  and  he  was  anticipating  a 
pleasant  visit  with  some  rustic,  when  the  brush' 
parted  and  Dr.  Lucas  stood  before  him. 

"You,   doctor!"   exclaimed   Allan.     "I   thought  I 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  221 

was  going  to  see  a  horny-handed  son  of  toil  and 
here  it  is  a  truant  physician." 

"Glad  to  meet  a  truant  preacher  this  morning, 
I  assure  you,"  responded  the  doctor  heartily.  "I 
just  couldn't  keep  up  the  farce  of  pretending  to 
fish  any  longer  and  I  was  looking  for  some  excite- 
ment.  How  I  wish  we  had  a  mountain  stream 
within  walking  distance  of  Wellington.  Wouldn't 
this  be  an  ideal  country  if  we  had?" 

"Let  us  sit  down,  doctor,  and  have  a  chat.  This 
is  a  delightful  spot.  How  healing  nature  is ! 
Your  pharmacopoeia  is  an  impertinence  compared 
with  a  day  on  Elm  Creek." 

"I  know  it,  I  know  it !"  laughed  the  doctor.  "1 
never  take  my  own  medicine.  I  get  out  my  fish- 
ing rod  and  hike  down  here  when  I  need  some  re- 
cuperation." 

"Aren't  you  afraid  to  leave  your  patients  lest 
they  get  better?"  said  Allan,  with  a  smile. 

"Patients !"  exclaimed  the  doctor.  "Where  are 
my  patients?  This  Iowa  climate  is  so  healthy  in 
the  summer  time  that  all  we  doctors  have  to  do  is 
to  sit  in  our  offices  and  twirl  our  thumbs.  It  is 
my  worst  objection  to  Iowa." 

"That  is  bad  for  the  doctors,  isn't  it?"  respond- 
ed Allan. 

"If  it  were  not  for  an  occasional  wet  spring,  we 
doctors  are  a  superfluity  out  here  most  of  the 
time,"  went  on  Dr.  Lucas. 

"When  we  need  you,  we  want  you  right  quick, 
however,  so  be  patient,  dear  doctor  and  we  will  be 
your  patients  as  often  as  we  can't  help  it." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  so  strong  and  well  again, 


222  THE   VICTORY   OF 

Mr.  Rutledge,"  said  the  doctor  in  a  more  serious 
tone.  "There  was  a  while  last  spring  when  I 
thought  that  your  trouble  with  the  college  was 
going  to  get  on  your  nerves  and  make  a  wreck  of 
you." 

"My  visit  to  the  old  farm  made  a  man  of  me 
again,"  said  Allan. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think  of  that  whole  col- 
lege affair?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"What's  on  your  mind?"  rejoined  the  minister. 

"I  think  that  President  Older  and  those  other 
fellows  that  are  hounding  you  are  in  pretty  poor 
business.  They  are  jealous  of  your  success  and 
their  only  desire  is  to  humiliate  you.  They  care 
nothing  about  the  real  prosperity  of  either  our 
church  or  college.  President  Older's  administra- 
tion at  the  college  has  been  a  flat  failure.  They 
are  like  dogs  in  a  manger.  If  they  cannot  do 
something  themselves,  they  are  determined  that 
no  one  else  shall." 

"Don't  you  think  that  that  is  rather  a  severe 
diagnosis?"  said  Allan,  smiling. 

"No,  sir!  Those  men  are  of  small  caliber  and 
they  have  the  big  head.  Men,  as  well  as  horses, 
get  that  disease.  That  is  our  great  trouble  with 
the  Church  in  America  to-day!  Often  these  petty 
ecclesiastical  politicians  get  into  places  of  influ- 
ence and  they  try  to  hold  their  power  by  any  and 
every  means.  I  have  watched  the  thing  for  a  good 
many  years.  It  is  disgusting  to  a  man  who 
knows  what  real  Christian  leadership  ought  to  be. 
Instead  of  being  eager  to  deny  themselves  for  the 
sake  of  the  kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  as  Paul  was, 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  223 

these  fellows  are  as  ambitious  for  personal  honor 
and  glory  as  Pilate,  and,  like  Pilate,  they  often 
crucify  Christ  rather  than  endanger  in  any  way 
their  own  prospects  for  worldly  glory." 

Allan  was  silent,  finding  nothing  to  say  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  doctor's  argument.  Judged  by  the 
standards  of  the  New  Testament,  President  Older, 
Dr.  Warren  Miller  and  his  other  avowed  minis- 
terial enemies  were  much  more  Pilatelike  than 
Christlike. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  two  friends  walked 
home  along  the  railroad  track.  When  they  came 
to  the  "bend,"  where  Allan  and  young  Markley 
had  met  in  the  morning,  the  minister  referred  to 
the  incident  and  told  the  doctor  of  the  conversa- 
tion he  had  with  Elder  Markley's  son. 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Allan.  "I  feel  sorry  for 
him.  His  feet  are  slipping  and  he  has  begun  to 
realize  it." 

"I  am  sorry  for  him,  too,"  said  the  doctor.  "I 
blame  Elder  Markley  more  than  I  do  the  boy.  I 
well  remember  Fred  as  a  little  fellow.  I  thought 
he  was  going  to  become  a  fine  man,  but  he  has  had 
no  chance.  Markley  is  like  a  lot  of  other  parents 
these  days.  He  has  been  so  busy  getting  money 
that  he  has  had  no  time  for  anything  else,  and 
now  he  is  beginning  to  see  how  his  money  is  not 
much  comfort  with  a  son  like  Frederick.  The  old 
man  is  all  broken  up  lately,  and  I  believe  he  ias 
begun  to  realize  his  son's  condition." 

"It  is  too  bad!"  commented  the  minister. 

Just  then  the  doctor  stopped.  Taking  out  his 
handkerchief,  he  mopped  his  brow,  and,  pointing 


THE   VICTORY  OF 

to  the  bank  along  the  track,  he  said:  "There  is 
where  poor  Viola  Antol  committed  suicide.  It  is 
just  a  little  over  a  year  ago  since  it  happened.  It 
was  the  shock  of  her  death  that  killed  Dr.  Anning. 
He  was  never  the  same  man  after  her  funeral.  It 
was  the  saddest  thing  I  ever  knew.  I  could  as 
soon  have  believed  that  Dr.  Anning  himself  would 
have  fallen  away  as  that  Viola  would  have  gone 
astray." 

"Some  seem  to  doubt  if  it  was  really  suicide,' 
after  all,"  said  Allan. 

"Yes,  I  remember  there  was  some  gossip  at  the 
time,  but  there  could  be  no  doubt.  It  was  her 
father's  gun  which  was  found  by  her  side." 

There  was  no  more  mention  of  the  unfortunate 
Bohemian  girl,  but  Allan  felt  in  his  soul  that  the 
tragedy  of  her  death  was  not  yet  ended. 

"Mr.  Rutledge,"  went  on  the  doctor,  as  they  left 
the  fatal  "bend,"  "I  want  to  assure  you  of  the 
reality  of  the  religious  revival  which  you  have 
brought  to  Wellington.  A  doctor  always  knows 
the  real  life  of  any  community,  and  I  can  bear 
witness  that  Wellington  is  really  transformed. 
The  social  conditions  here  had  become  shocking, 
but  it  is  altogether  different  now." 

"I  am  truly  glad,"  responded  the  minister  with 
a  suspicion  of  moisture  in  his  eyes,  "if  I  have  been 
of  any  service  to  this  community.  I  have  suffered 
sc.-iething  in  Wellington,  but  that  is  nothing  if 
rea-  good. has  been  accomplished." 

The  next  week  Allan  Rutledge  went  to  the  an- 
nual convention  at  Des  Moines.  This  conven- 
tion was  controlled  by  men  who  despised  him  as 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  225 

a  "religious  enthusiast,"  while  they  viewed  with 
bitter  jealousy  his  remarkable  success  as  a  minis- 
ter of  the  Gospel. 

Allan  Rutledge  and  the  ecclesiastical  "machine" 
of  Iowa  were  to  meet  in  mortal  combat.  Which 
would  be  the  victor?  The  conflict  seemed  as  un- 
equal as  the  long  remembered  struggle  between 
David  and  Goliath,  and  many  of  God's  servants  in 
Iowa  trembled  for  the  young  Wellington  pastor, 
just  as  many  a  godly  Israelite  trembled  then  for 
the  youthful  shepherd  of  Bethlehem, 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
MISUNDERSTANDINGS. 

What  is  daintier  than  a  maiden's  room?  The 
whole  scene  is  one  of  delicacy,  beauty  and  grace. 
A  young  man's  room  is  as  different  from  a  girl's 
as  a  blustering  March  day  from  a  zephyr-caressed 
evening  in  June. 

Miss  Mabel  Grayson  sat  in  her  own  room  one 
morning  amid  the  charming  surroundings  of  such 
a  retreat,  her  own  loveliness  enhanced  by  her  ex- 
quisite environments.  But  a  look  of  perplexity 
was  on  her  fair  face,  and  her  head  rested  on  her 
hand.  She  had  just  read  a  letter  from  Grace 
Markley.  It  was  not  as  long  as  the  epistle  she 
had  received  some  time  before,  telling  of  the  for- 
tunes of  Allan  Rutledge.  Nor  did  this  letter  have 
very  much  to  say  directly  about"  the  young  Well- 
ington minister.  But  a  sentence  or  two  in  it  made 
a  queer  sensation  in  Mabel  Grayson's  heart. 

"Oh,  Mabel,"  the  letter  had  said,  in  part,  "I 
am  so  happy  to-day.  This  morning  I  answered 
the  most  important  question  a  woman  can  answer. 
I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  but  I  cannot  write. 
Come  and  see  me  soon." 

It  was  these  words  that  made  Mabel's  heart  feel 
like  lead  in  a  moment.  Of  course,  she  had  ex- 

226 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

pected  it.  Even  during  the  delightful  visit  with 
Allan  Rutledge  on  the  Des  Moines  River,  Mabel 
never  allowed  herself  to  forget  that  Grace  Markley 
and  Allan  were  close  friends,  and  that  Grace  al- 
ready looked  on  Allan  as  something  more  than  a 
mere  friend.  Allan's  trouble  had  aroused  in  her 
the  mother-heart,  an  element  in  every  woman's 
nature,  and  her  desire  fa  see  him  throw  off  every 
care  during  his  vacation  led  her  to  a  freedom  in 
his  company  that  otherwise  she  would  not  have 
enjoyed  during  those  July  days  in  the  country. 

Since  those  eventful  days  at  the  "camp,"  Mabel 
had  resumed  her  correspondence  with  Allan,  but 
in  a  more  reserved  way  than  before,  which  reserve 
he  had  noticed  and  wondered  at.  Mabel,  for  some 
reason,  disliked  to  write  frankly  to  Grace  Markley 
about  her  relationship  to  the  young  minister,  and 
her  letters  to  her  Wellington  cousin  were  not  as 
frank  and  cordial  as  they  had  been.  Utterly  ig- 
norant of  Mabel's  feelings,  Grace  wrote  freely 
about  Allan,  and,  as  they  were  much  associated  in 
charitable  work  of  various  kinds,  Mabel  was  cer- 
tain that  their  companionship  was  constant,  and 
that  Grace  had  gained  completely  the  heart  of  the 
man  she  referred  to  so  often  in  her  letters. 

This  letter  which  Mabel  Grayson  held  in  her 
hand  on  this  particular  morning  was  the  announce- 
ment at  last  that  Grace  and  Allan  were  engaged. 
So  Mabel  Grayson  thought.  But  plainly  it  was 
^till  a  private  engagement,  as  Grace  did  not  even 
wish  to  write  about  it,  but  merely  hinted  at  the 
all-important  event.  Mabel  Grayson  felt  that  the 
confidence  was  sacred  and  she  must  not  say  any- 


228  THE   VICTORY  OF 

thing  about  it  until  Grace  had  given  her  full  per- 
mission. 

"Oh,  I  see  now  what  he  meant!"  said  Mabel  to 
herself,  as  she  picked  up  another  letter  which  she 
had  also  received  that  morning  from  Wellington, 
and  which,  to  her  astonishment,  when  she  read  it, 
began,  "My  Dearest  Mabel."  The  three  last  let- 
ters of  the  middle  word  were  used  in  this  letter 
for  the  first  time  by  the  young  minister  in  ad- 
dressing the  daughter  of  Judge  Grayson.  When 
she  had  read  this  tender  word,  raised  by  him  to 
the  superlative  power  for  the  first  time  in  writing 
to  her,  she  had  blushed  and  her  heart  had  throbbed 
so  violently  that  she  had  to  labor  to  get  her  breath. 

"I  understand  it  now,"  she  went  on,  speaking 
aloud,  although  there  was  no  one  to  hear.  "He 
thinks  I  am  to  be  his  cousin  now  and  so  he  calls 
me  'Dearest.'  He  will  soon  write  'Dearest  Cou- 
sin,' I  suppose,"  and  as  she  spoke  the  color  left 
her  face. 

"Why  should  I  care?"  at  last  she  exclaimed.  "I 
must  write  to-day  and  congratulate  my  cousin.  I 
am  sure  she  will  be  happy  as  Allan  Rutledge's 
wife." 

Accordingly,  she  wrote  an  answer  to  Grace, 
which  surprised  that  young  lady  very  much.  "I 
congratulate  you  on  your  engagement,"  Mabel 
wrote.  "I  am  sure  you  will  be  happy  as  his  wife." 

"How  did  she  know  whom  I  promised  to 
marry?"  said  Grace  to  herself,  in  astonishment,  as 
she  read  the  letter,  but  thinking  that  perhaps  in 
some  way  Mabel  had  found  out  her  secret  she 
thanked  her  cousin  for  her  kind  wrishes. 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  229 

But  Mabel  Grayson  was  miserable.  Her  father 
could  notice  a  lull  in  her  gay  laughter,  and  he  was 
fearful  she  was  not  well.  He  found  her  one  day 
in  his  library,  with  a  book  on  her  lap  and  her  hands 
over  her  face,  weeping  silently. 

"What's  the  matter,  my  child?"  he  asked  gently. 
"What  has  happened  to  you  lately?  Why  are  you 
crying?" 

"I  was  reading  this  book,  'The  Story  of  Ann 
Rutledge/ "  she  replied,  in  some  confusion.  "I 
got  it  at  the  bookstore  yesterday,  and  poor  Ann's 
sad  fate  made  me  weep.  Did  you  ever  read  the 
story,  father?"  she  asked,  so  pathetically  that  her 
father  looked  at  her  earnestly. 

"I  never  read  much  about  it,"  answered  the 
Judge,  "but  I  remember  there  was  something 
about  a  love  affair  between  Abraham  Lincoln  and 
some  such  person  when  Lincoln  was  a  young 
man." 

"Yes,"  said  his  daughter.  "In  this  book  :t  tells 
the  whole  story.  Poor  Ann  died  of  a  broken 
heart.  She  was  Allan  Rutledge's  great-aunt.  Did 
I  ever  tell  you?" 

"No,"  responded  the  Judge,  in  surprise.  "Is  that 
so?  I  am  more  interested  than  ever  in  that  young 
man.  His  case  conies  up  at.  the  Convention  which 
meets  to-morrow.  I  understand  his  enemies  have 
full  confidence  that  they  can  drive  him  out  of 
Wellington." 

^  "Drive    him    out    of    Wellington !"    said    Mabel. 
"What  do  you  mean,  papa?" 

"Well,  his  attack  on  the  college  in  the  news- 
papers has  given  some  of  his  jealous  fellow-minis- 


230  THE   VICTORY  OF 

ters   an   opportunity,  as   they   think,   to   humiliate 
him,  and  they  are  going  to  make  the  most  of  it." 

Mabel  Grayson  dried  her  tears. 

"Are  any  of  our  ministers  so  contemptible?"  she 
asked  her  father,  sitting  up  straight  and  looking 
him  in  the  face. 

"My  daughter,"  answered  the  Judge  gravely,  "I 
desire  you  always  to  reverence  the  ministry  of  the 
Gospel,  which  is  one  of  God's  best  gifts  to  his 
Church.  True  ministers  devote  themselves  wholly 
to  God's  work  in  the  spirit  of  their  Master,  and 
seek  each  other's  honor  rather  than  their  own. 
But  we  cannot  deny  that  self-seeking,  worldly- 
minded  men  have  intruded  themselves  into  the 
ranks  of  the  ministry,  and  I  regret  to  say  that 
present-day  circumstances  in  this  new  Western 
country  give  such  men  an  opportunity  to  domineer 
often  over  the  faithful  servants  of  Christ  in  the 
Church.  But  the  power  of  such  false  ministers  in 
Iowa  will  be  broken  in  this  coming  convention,  or 
I  have  not  read  aright  the  signs  of  the  times. 
Allan  Rutledge  is  destined  to  do  a  great  work  for 
the  ministry  of  our  whole  State,  as  well  as  revive 
the  Wellington  Church  and  purify  the  college 
there." 

"What  will  he  do?"  asked  Mabel,  with  wide  open 
eyes. 

"He  will  expose  the  spirit  of  these  men  who  are 
at  present  controlling  the  Church  in  this  State,  and 
when  the  rank  and  file  of  our  faithful  Iowa  min- 
isters and  Christian  workers  see  what  kind  of  men 
President  Older,  Dr.  Warren  Miller  and  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge's  other  enemies  are  they  will  put  them  aside 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  231 

at  once  and  choose  leaders  of  the  Allan  Rutledge 
stamp." 

"I  certainly  hope  so,"  said  the  Judge's  daughter. 

"What  have  you  decided  to  do  about  the  Euro- 
pean trip,"  continued  the  Judge,  patting  the  girl's 
fair  cheek.  "You  are  losing  some  of  your  blushes. 
I  think  an  ocean  voyage  would  do  you  good." 

"When  did  you  say  the  party  sails  from  New 
York?"  asked  Mabel. 

"They  sail  on  the  S.  S.  Mauretania  November  5. 
If  you  and  I  expect  to  go  we  must  decide  at  once." 

"I  think  we  had  better  go,"  said  the  girl  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  decided,  Mabel,"  said  her 
father,  with  enthusiasm.  "It  is  a  delightful  party 
who  are  going,  and  we  both  need  a  rest  and 
change.  The  voyage  will  remind  me  of  happy 
days  gone  forever,"  continued  the  Judge,  with  a 
far-away  look  in  his  eyes.  "Your  mother  and  I 
spent  our  honeymoon  in  Europe,  but  I  feel  that  a 
trip  back  to  those  happy  scenes  will  do  me  good. 
It  is  so  lonely  here  since  mother  left  us,"  and 
Judge  Grayson's  eyes  were  moist. 

"All  right,  papa,"  responded  his  daughter.  "I 
will  be  ready.  It  is  over  two  months  before  sail- 
ing time,  which  gives  us  plenty  of  time  for  our 
preparations." 

This  European  trip,  to  which  Judge  Grayson  re- 
ferred, was  a  prolonged  tour  with  a  party  of 
friends.  Mabel  Grayson  at  first  had  no  desire  to 
go,  but  after  receiving  Grace  Markley's  letter,  she 
had  changed  her  mind,  and  she  hoped  then  an 


THE   VICTORY  OF 

ocean  voyage  would  rid  her  heart  of  its  rebellious 
mood. 

Alas  for  her,  no  medicine,  no  travel,  no  cure  has 
yet  been  found  that  can  quiet  the  unrest  of  a 
woman's  heart  when  it  feels  the  pain  which  Mabel 
Grayson  had  begun  to  experience,  and  which  Ann 
Rutledge  had  so  bitterly  known ! 

When  Grace  Markley  heard  of  her  cousin's  plans 
she  was  astonished,  and  was  yet  more  surprised 
when  Mabel  refused  to  visit  her  in  Wellington  be- 
fore starting  on  her  long  journey. 

"Come  and  see  me,"  she  had  written  to  Mabel, 
"before  you  go.  I  want  to  talk  over  my  life  plans 
with  you.  I  have  always  hoped  to  devote  my  life 
entirely  to  Christian  work,  but  I  sometimes  think 
I  am  taking  a  step  in  the  dark.  I  have  said  noth- 
ing yet  to  my  father,  though  mother  knows  it." 

"I  cannot  go  to  see  her,"  said  Mabel  bitterly, 
wiping  a  tear  from  her  eyes  as  she  read  this  letter. 
"I  could  not  help  showing  my  own  unhappiness.  I 
must  conquer  this  foolish  fancy.  Oh,  I  wish  our 
feelings  were  more  directly  under  our  own  con- 
trol !"  and  the  girl  gave  way  to  a  long  outburst  of 
weeping. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  wrote  back  to  Grace  Markley, 
"that  I  cannot  arrange  to  go  to  Wellington.  I 
have  two  or  three  other  places  that  I  have  prom- 
ised to  visit  before  going  East,  and  our  boat  sails 
from  New  York  on  November  5th,  so  you  see  I 
have  not  much  time.  I  expect  I  shall  find  you  all 
settled  in  your  new  home  when  I  return." 

"What  can  she  mean?"  said  Grace,  as  she  read 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  233 

this.  "  'Settled  in  my  new  home.'  I  wonder  who 
has  told  her  everything." 

But  the  result  was  that  Mabel  Grayson  and 
Grace  Markley  did  not  see  each  other  for  a  long, 
long  time  after  this,  and  during  this  interval  the 
world  changed  for  each  so  much  that  it  was  like  a 
different  place  when  they  met  each  other  again. 

It  was  strange  also  how  Mabel  Grayson  and 
Allan  Rutledge  misunderstood  each  other.  Ma- 
bel's answer  to  Allan's  letter,  in  which  he  had 
used  the  superlative  degree  of  the  word  preceding 
her  name,  was  almost  cold.  She  hesitated  to  send 
it  at  first,  lest  it  should  discourage  him  when  he 
was  still  needing  the  encouragement  of  his  friends, 
but  finally  she  mailed  it,  saying  to  herself :  "I  can't 
write  any  other  kind  of  letter  now,  and  if  he  does 
not  answer  this,  perhaps  it  is  best.  For  a  while, 
at  least,  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  be  mere 
friends." 

Allan  Rutledge  saw  her  in  the  audience  when  he 
was  making  his  great  speech  at  the  Convention,  of 
which  we  will  hear  later,  but  she  did  not  come 
forward  to  greet  him  at  the  close  of  the  meeting 
that  day,  although  her  father,  who  was  with  her, 
did. 

Allan  had  called  at  Judge  Grayson's  home  the 
first  morning  of  the  Convention,  but  Mabel  had 
gone  out.  Judge  Grayson  invited  him  to  supper 
the  evening  after  his  speech  and  he  was  delighted 
to  accept  it,  but  just  about  six  o'clock  that  day 
ne  received  a  telegram  calling  him  back  imme- 
diately to  Wellington  on  account  of  a  sudden 
death  in  his  congregation,  and  he  felt  compelled 


THE   VICTORY  OF 

to  take  the  seven  o'clock  train  for  home  that  even- 
ing. He  excused  himself  to  Judge  Grayson  over 
the  telephone. 

"He  didn't  want  to  come,  papa,"  said  Mabel, 
when  her  father  had  brought  Allan's  excuse  to 
her  at  the  supper  table. 

"Why,  daughter,  you  are  mistaken.  He  was 
much  pleased  when  I  invited  him.  I  know  it  was 
only  his  stern  sense  of  duty  that  has  sent  him 
back  to  Wellington,  as  he  wanted  to  remain  until 
the  close  of  the  Convention.  I  know  he  was  an- 
ticipating the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  again  be- 
fore he  left  Des  Moines.  He  told  me  so." 

"Did  he  really?"  said  the  girl,  with  an  uncon- 
scious blush. 

"There,  there,  child!  Mr.  Rutledge's  enemies 
say  he  hypnotizes  the  people.  I  am  afraid  he  has 
hypnotized  my  daughter." 

Mabel  made  no  reply,  busying  herself  pouring 
out  a  cup  of  tea  for  her  father. 

"I  am  proud  of  such  a  man  as  Allan  Rutledge," 
went  on  the  Judge  enthusiastically.  "The  moral 
and  religious  future  of  the  Middle  Wejt  is  as- 
sured if  men  like  him  become  the  leaders  in  the 
Church." 

"I  have  always  admired  him,"  answered  Mabel 
quietly,  "since  that  day  when  he  graduated,  when 
he  risked  his  life  to  quiet  our  horses  and  deliv- 
ered his  address  on  'Self-control.'  " 

"That  was  a  magnificent  oration  for  a  graduat- 
ing address,"  said  her  father.  "For  real  eloquence 
I  never  heard  anything  that  has  surpassed  it  until 
I  heard  Mr.  Rutledge  this  afternoon  at  the  Con- 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  235 

vention.  On  his  graduation  day,  you  remember,  I 
told  you  that  the  young  man  was  a  'friend  to  man.' 
He  has  fulfilled  my  hopes  for  him." 

Mabel's  memory  went  back,  like  a  flash,  to  that 
happy  day  when  she  had  met  Allan  Rutledge  on 
the  train.  That  \vas  the  day  he  had  arrived  in 
Wellington  to  begin  his  eventful  ministry.  She 
recalled  vividly  of  telling  him  what  her  father  had 
said  about  him,  and  how  he  had  replied,  with  his 
black  eyes  shining:  "At  least,  I  am  a  friend  to  his 
daughter." 

"Yes,  he  is  still  my  friend,"  thought  Mabel  sad- 
ly, "but  he  is  only  my  friend.  It  is  a  joy  to  most 
people  to  have  such  a  man  as  a  friend.  Alas,  it  is 
my  cross !" 

But  outside  the  inner  sanctuary  of  her  own  soul 
no  one  ever  knew  Mabel  Grayson's  disappoint- 
ment. How  little  we  know  of  the  inner  life  of 
even  those  who  are  nearest  us! 

"I  am  glad  Mr.  Rutledge  won  such  a  splendid 
victory  in  the  Convention  to-day,"  she  said,  after 
a  brief  pause.  Then  the  conversation  changed  to 
a  discussion  of  plans  for  the  European  trip. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  CHURCH  CONVENTION  HEARS  REV. 
ALLAN   RUTLEDGE. 

"I  am  sure  we  can  oust  the  fellow  without  any 
trouble." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  Brother  Miller.  I 
have  lost  all  influence  with  Markley,  and  that  pious 
fellow,  Stanford,  has  come  to  represent  the  Well- 
ington Church  at  the  Convention."  And  the  last 
speaker  frowned  and  shook  his  head. 

This  conversation  took  place  between  two  min- 
isters as  they  walked  along  the  streets  of  Des 
Moines.  Anyone  could  tell  they  were  ministers, 
not  from  any  nobility  of  character  in  their  appear- 
ance, we  are  sorry  to  say  in  this  instance,  but  by 
their  pompous  air  and  clerical  dress. 

"I  will  arrange  to  keep  Stanford  quiet,"  said  the 
first  speaker,  who  was  Allan's  bitter  enemy,  Dr. 
Warren  Miller.  "WTe  have  it  all  arranged  that  I 
am  to  be  the  president  of  the  Convention  this 
year,  and  when  the  reports  from  the  churches  are 
being  given  I  will  recognize  you  when  Wellington 
Church  is  called  on  to  report.  As  the  president  of 
the  college  you  can  report  for  both  the  church  and 
the  college." 

"Good!"  replied  President  Older,  for  he  was  the 
other  speaker.  "I  will  be  able  to  take  the  wind 

236 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  237 

out  of  Rutledge's  sails.  I  believe  he  has  been 
writing  around  to  ministers  of  the  smaller 
churches.  I  have  found  several  friends  of  his 
among  the  country  pastors." 

"Oh,  those  'rubes'  from  the  country  are  an  ignor- 
ant set !"  sneered  the  Rev.  Dr.  Warren  Miller. 
"Rutledge  belongs  among  the  'rubes'  himself.  If 
any  of  them  try  to  hinder  our  plans  at  this  Con- 
vention, I  will  soon  show  them  their  place.  We 
can  cut  down  their  salaries  and  teach  them  to 
mind  their  own  business." 

This  threat  by  Dr.  Miller  was  not  an  empty  one. 
As  the  leaders  in  all  departments  of  the  church 
work,  the  "machine"  controlled  the  missionary 
funds  from  which  the  meager  salaries  of  the  coun- 
try pastors  were  supplemented,  and  it  was  an  easy 
matter  to  teach  a  rebellious  preacher  by  cutting 
down  his  missionary  allowance.  In  both  Church 
and  State  the  "machine"  principle  works  sim- 
ilarly. With  these  ignoble  thoughts  filling  their 
souls,  these  two  so-called  leaders  of  Christianity 
in  the  Middle  West  passed  on. 

The  annual  Convention  met  in  a  large  central 
church,  which  seated  an  immense  audience.  The 
floor  space  was  reserved  for  the  ministers  and  the 
lay  delegates,  while  the  church  people  of  Des 
Moines  and  visitors  from  different  parts  of  the 
State  were  seated  in  the  commodious  galleries. 
The  entire  church  was  crowded  when  the  Con- 
v^ntion  was  called  to  order. 

No  sooner  was  this  done  than  the  smooth  work- 
ings of  the  ecclesiastical  "machine"  manifested 
themselves.  One  of  the  "machine"  puppets 


238  THE   VICTORY  OF 

jumped  to  his  feet  at  once  and  proposed,  in  lauda- 
tory terms,  that  Dr.  Warren  Miller  be  elected  the 
president  of  the  Convention.  The  motion  was 
seconded  and  carried  before  the  majority  of  the 
delegates  fully  understood  that  the  opening  prayer 
was  quite  finished. 

Dr.  Miller  ascended  the  platform  and  assumed 
control.  He  made  a  long  introductory  speech, 
apparently  impromptu,  but  in  reality  carefully  pre- 
pared, and  prepared  with  a  purpose.  He  spoke 
vain-gloriously  of  the  "peace  and  harmony  pre- 
vailing among  the  churches  within  the  bounds  of 
our  glorious  State."  Then  with  simulated  reluc- 
tance he  went  on  to  speak  of  "one  or  two  unfor- 
tunate exceptions  to  this  happy  state  of  affairs." 
Everyone  knew  that  he  referred  to  Wellington. 

The  dark  eyes  of  the  young  Wellington  minis- 
ter gleamed  as,  in  a  sneering  tone,  Dr.  Miller  con- 
tinued: "Ill-balanced  enthusiasm  has  brought  dis- 
cord into  an  important  center  of  influence  in  our 
church,  but  I  am  sure  this  Convention  will  settle 
that  unfortunate  affair  with  a  view  to  our  vested 
interests,  which  have  been  imperiled  by  unwise 
leadership." 

A  number  of  the  "machine"  gang  in  the  Con- 
vention applauded  these  remarks,  but  Allan  Rut- 
ledge  smiled  to  see  how  mechanical  this  applause 
was,  and  how  small  the  number  of  those  applaud- 
ing. The  great  majority  listened  in  severe  silence 
to  Dr.  Miller's  harangue,  and  many  shook  their 
heads  in  direct  disapproval.  Allan  sat  near  the 
back  of  the  church,  and  none  of  these  signs,  by 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  239 

which  an  experienced  man  can  read  the  thoughts 
of  an  audience,  escaped  him. 

Although  Wellington  was  the  most  important 
church  in  the  State,  outside  of  Des  Moines,  the 
leaders  of  the  Convention  ignored  Allan  altogether 
in  making  out  their  program. 

Dr.  Oudrey,  another  "machine"  man.  made  a 
long  speech  on  "Reaching  Our  Young  People,"  in 
which  he  took  occasion  to  speak  of  "sensational 
preachers  who  like  to  see  their  names  in  the 
papers,"  and  denounced  such  as  driving  the  young 
people  away  from  the  church.  "These  unwise 
hotheads,"  he  exclaimed,  "make  religion  undigni- 
fied, and  young  people  lose  all  respect  for  the  min- 
istry when  they  see  such  men  in  charge  of  our  im- 
portant pulpits.  We  owe  it  to  ourselves  to  pro- 
tect our  churches  from  this  kind  of  demagogery." 

Several  other  addresses  were  of  the  same  na- 
ture, all  intended  to  prepare  the  mind  of  the  Con- 
vention to  act  promptly  and  decidedly  on  Allan 
Rutledge's  case,  when  President  Older  would 
bring  in  his  petition,  asking  for  action  by  the  Con- 
vention on  the  situation  at  Wellington. 

But  in  spite  of  its  labored  program  the  "ma- 
chine" was  ill  at  ease.  Things  were  not  moving 
as  smoothly  as  they  wished.  The  Convention  lis- 
tened restlessly  to  these  attacks  on  Wellington's 
young  minister.  During  the  opening  hours  of  the 
Convention,  Allan  had  mingled  freely  with  the  com- 
rrtoner  kind  of  preachers,  the  faithful,  self-denying 
home  missionaries.  He  asked  them  about  the  suc- 
cess of  vital  religion  in  their  parishes  and  encour- 


240  THE   VICTORY  OF. 

aged  them  in  a  way  that  was  new  to  these  hum- 
ble workers. 

The  leaders  of  the  "machine"  had  arranged  to 
snub  Allan  at  the  Convention  if  he  appeared  in 
their  councils,  but  he  gave  them  no  opportunity, 
as  he  always  sought  the  association  of  the  ignored 
portion  of  the  ministry.  The  parity  of  the  minis- 
try was  not  a  mere  phrase  with  him;  it  was  a 
reality. 

President  Older  thought,  of  course,  that  this  was 
a  part  of  Allan's  deep  political  scheme  to  influence 
the  Convention,  but  he  had  to  admit  the  superior 
wisdom  shown  by  the  Wellington  preacher  in  thus 
winning  to  himself  the  rural  ministers,  as,  when 
it  came  to  votes,  they  were  in  the  majority  and 
really  controlled  everything. 

As  the  Convention  proceeded,  a  roll-call  of  all 
the  churches  was  made,  and  each  church  reported 
briefly.  Generally,  the  pastor  reported  for  the 
church,  although  sometimes  a  lay  delegate  spoke. 
When  the  name  of  the  Wellington  Church  was 
called,  Dr.  Miller,  the  president  of  the  Convention, 
said:  "I  see  President  Older  is  here.  He  can  give 
us  the  report  from  Wellington." 

As  President  Older  arose,  the  "machine"  gang 
again  tried  to  stir  up  applause,  but  it  died  out 
ignominiously.  The  college  president  frowned  as 
he  noticed  the  failure  of  his  friends/' 

"Brethren  of  the  Convention,"  he  began,  "we 
have  had  a  trying  year  at  Wellington.  Some  new 
members  have  been  received  into  the  church, 
most  of  them  very  poor  people,  but  to  offset  this 
slight  advantage  our  college  has  been  seriously  in- 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  241 

jured,  as  you  all  know,  through  a  reckless  blunder. 
Some  of  our  moneyed  men  in  Wellington  are  talk- 
ing of  withdrawing  from  the  church,  and  the  situa- 
tion is  very  perplexing.  We  need  the  help  of  this 
Convention.  I  hope  that  later  on  action  can  be 
taken  that  will  restore  the  former  peace  and  har- 
mony between  the  church  and  college,  and  bring 
back  again  all  who  are  now  alienated  from  the 
church." 

This  was  a  strange  report  to  come  from  the 
Wellington  Church,  which  had  reported  in  acces- 
sions the  largest  number  received  anywhere  that 
year,  and  which  was  well  known  to  have  had  a 
most  remarkable  religious  awakening. 

Amid  the  tense  silence  which  followed  Presi- 
dent Older's  remarks,  Dr.  Miller  hastily  called  the 
name  of  the  next  church,  so  as  to  shut  out  any 
further  report  from  Wellington.  But  Dr.  Miller 
reckoned  without  his  host. 

"Stop !"  Shouting  this  word  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  Deacon  Stanford  was  on  his  feet  in  an  in- 
stant. He  was  seated  near  the  front,  and  as  he 
turned  to  face  the  Convention,  everyone  could 
mark  his  emotion.  His  face  was  red.  His  eyes 
shone.  He  was  plainly  laboring  under  great  ex- 
citement. He  had  listened  to  the  covert  attacks 
on  Allan  Rutledge  until  he  could  endure  no  longer. 
As  he  afterward  told  his  wife,  he  would  have  ex- 
ploded right  there  if  he  had  kept  still  another  mo- 
m^nt.  "Stop!"  he  shouted  again.  "I  object  to 
that  report  from  the  Wellington  Church.  I  am 
an  officer  in  that  church,  and  President  Older's 
remarks  are  false  and  misleading." 


242  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"Order!  order!"  cried  Dr.  Miller. 

"I  am  in  order,  sir!"  cried  the  indignant  dea- 
con. "I  am  qualified  to  make  a  report  for  the 
Wellington  Church,  and  I  am  going  to  make  it." 
A  roar  of  deafening  applause  from  the  Convention 
showed  that  Deacon  Stanford  had  at  last  broken 
the  spell  of  the  "machine." 

"I  rise  to  a  point  of  order!"  cried  President 
Older,  getting  on  his  feet. 

"Sit  down !  sit  down !  sit  down !"  came  from 
every  part  of  the  building.  President  Older  sat 
down  in  confusion,  his  face  distorted  with  rage. 
Dr.  Miller  saw  that  further  opposition  was  use- 
less, and  Deacon  Stanford  went  on.  He  told  of 
the  great  work  that  Allan  Rutledge  had  accom- 
plished. He  spoke  of  the  Sabbath  services,  the 
Monday  evening  Bible  class,  the  prayer  meetings, 
the  converted  drunkards  and  changed  homes.  The 
Convention  listened  spellbound.  It  was  like  a  re- 
freshing breeze  in  a  musty  room  to  hear  of  a  truly 
revived  church  in  the  annual  Convention.  Before 
he  sat  down,  seeing  he  had  the  sympathetic  atten- 
tion of  the  entire  Convention,  Deacon  Stanford 
made  an  appeal  on  behalf  of  his  minister.  With 
tears  in  his  eyes,  and  with  his  voice  trembling  with 
emotion,  he  asked:  "Has  Mr.  Rutledge  been 
treated  fairly  in  this  Convention?  Is  it  a  crime 
for  a  man  to  preach  the  Gospel  with  power  in 
Iowa?  Why,  then,  are  these  men  hounding  this 
minister,  whom  the  whole  church  in  Wellington 
loves?" 

There  was  a  hush  as  Deacon  Stanford  sat  down. 
You  could  have  heard  a  pin  fall  in  the  immense 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 

auditorium.    Then     came     cries    of    "Allan    Rut- 
ledge!  Allan  Rutledge!" 

Allan  arose  at  the  rear  of  the  church  to  speak. 

"Platform !  platform !"  the  enthusiastic  delegates 
cried. 

The  yung  hero  made  his  way  to  the  front.  As 
he  faced  the  audience,  which  represented  an  im- 
portant branch  of  the  Christian  Church  of  all  Iowa, 
the  deafening  applause  told  him  that  his  brethren 
had  judged  his  cause  and  found  a  verdict  in  his 
favor.  A  tear  sprang  into  his  eye  at  this  token 
of  approval,  so  unsolicited,  so  cordial,  »o  sincere. 
He  looked  over  the  Convention.  It  was  a  truly 
representative  body.  The  varied  nationalities 
found  in  the  Middle  West  were  all  represented. 
The  energy  and  vigor  of  a  new  country  were  pic- 
tured on  their  faces.  These  true  men  had  snapped 
the  bonds  of  the  ecclesiastical  "machine"  as  soon 
as  they  discovered  its  real  spirit.  Allan  Rutledge 
represented  them,  and  thenceforth  he  became  their 
leader. 

President  Buchanan  was  in  power  in  the  United 
States  in  a  critical  time  in  our  history,  but  he  did 
not  represent  the  people.  As  soon  as  the  people 
had  an  opportunity  of  expressing  themselves  Bu- 
chanan was  hurled  from  office,  and  Abraham  Lin- 
coln stepped  into  the  place  of  leadership,  for  he 
represented  the  people's  common  aims  and  hopes. 
So  in  that  memorable  Church  Convention  in  Des 
koines,  the  church  at  last  found  an  opportunity 
of  expressing  itself,  and  it  hurled  to  the  ground 
men  like  Dr.  Warren  Miller  and  President  Older, 


244  THE   VICTORY  OF 

and  Allan  Rutledge  and  kindred  spirits  assumed 
control. 

Allan  began  his  speech  quietly  and  slowly.  He 
did  not  boast,  but  with  great  earnestness  he  told 
of  the  power  of  God's  Word  in  Wellington,  and  of 
the  complete  transformation  which  a  genuine  re- 
ligious awakening  had  accomplished.  Away  back 
in  the  gallery  he  caught  sight  of  Mabel  Grayson, 
listening  intently  to  his  story,  and  the  knowledge 
of  her  presence  gave  him  a  sense  of  exaltation.  He 
grew  more  and  more  eloquent.  The  Convention 
listened  in  wonder  at  his  power. 

"When  I  went  to  Wellington,"  the  speaker  con- 
cluded "my  prayer  was: 

'Wherever   wrongs   the   right   deny, 
Or  suffering  spirits  urge  their  plea, 

Make  me  a  voice  to  smite  the  lie, 
A  hand  to  set  the  prisoner  free.' 

I  have  shirked  no  known  duty  in  the  performance 
of  my  ministry,  though  I  freely  confess  I  have 
made  many  mistakes.  But  God  has  blessed  my 
feeble  efforts  to  help  my  fellow-men.  I  stand  here 
to-day  and  record  to  him  my  gratitude.  No  mat- 
ter what  disposition  this  Convention  may  make  of 
the  petition  of  my  enemies  that  I  be  removed  from 
Wellington,  I  shall  go  on  in  my  life  in  future  as  I 
have  in  the  past,  with  malice  toward  none,  with 
charity  for  all,  with  firmness  in  the  right,  as  God 
gives  me  to  see  the  right.'  Brethren,  I  seek  not 
honor  from  men. 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

'I  live  for  those  who  love  me, 

For  those  who  hold  me  true, 
For  the  heaven  that  smiles  above  me 

.  And  waits  my  coming  too : 
For  the  wrongs  that  needs  resistance, 
For  the  good  that  needs  assistance, 
For  the  future  in  the  distance, 
And  the  good  that  I  may  do.' " 

When  the  speaker  sat  down  the  whole  Conven- 
tion rose  as  one  man,  and  a  faithful,  old  home  mis- 
sionary, Captain  Bryan,  led  in  prayer.  In  his 
younger  days  this  man  had  been  a  sea  captain, 
and  in  hi's  fervent  prayer  that  day  he  made  many 
references  to  the  sea,  the  rocks,  the  storms  and  the 
ships  that  battle  with  the  waves.  He  implored 
the  great  Pilot  of  the  Gospel  ship  to  guide  the 
Chuich  in  that  wondrous  Western  land,  and  raise 
up  more  men  like  Allan  Rutledge,  who  would 
boldly  launch  the  lifeboat  and  save  those  who  were 
sinking  in  the  dark  waters  of  sin. 

When  Captain  Bryan  had  finished  his  prayer 
the  incident  closed,  and  the  rest  of  the  reports  were 
called  for.  But  it  was  a  convention  now  with  a 
new  spirit.  The  old  leaders  held  their  offices  nom- 
inally a  little  longer,  but  the  "machine"  itself  knew 
that  its  days  were  numbered.  At  the  close  of 
the  session  of  the  Convention  that  afternoon  an 
informal  reception  was  given  to  Wellington's  vic- 
torious minister,  and  expressions  of  good-will  were 
showered  upon  him.  Among  those  who  greeted 
him  was  Judge  Grayson. 

"I  am  Mabel's  father,"  he  said.     "I  congratulate 


246  THE   VICTORY  OF 

you  on  your  speech  to-day.  It  aas  changed  the 
course  of  history  in  Iowa.  I  have  only  heard  one 
better  speech  in  my  life,  and  that  was  your  gradu- 
ating address  at  our  college.  Do  you  remember 
it?" 

Allan  remembered  it  all  only  too  well.  He 
missed  the  Judge's  daughter,  who  had,  on  the 
former  occasion,  come  forward  to  speak  to  him, 
but  who  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  at  this  time. 

"Come  to  supper  with  us  to-night,"  said  the 
Judge.  "Mabel  will  be  delighted  to  see  you,  I 
know." 

Allan  gladly  consented.  However,  a  short  time 
later  a  telegram  was  handed  him  from  Wellington. 
It  was  a  call  for  him  to  return  home  at  once,  as 
one  of  his  congregation  had  been  suddenly  stricken 
and  his  presence  was  required  the  next  day.  After 
excusing  himself  over  the  telephone  to  the  kind 
Judge,  he  took  the  night  train  for  Wellington. 

In  spite  of  Allan's  evident  victory  in  the  Con- 
vention his  enemies  still  had  a  little  hope.  They 
could  not  believe  that  their  whole  power  had  gone 
from  them  so  swiftly  and  so  completely.  They 
waited  until  almost  the  end  of  the  Convention,  and, 
at  the  last  moment,  when  the  majority  of  the  dele- 
gates had  departed  for  their  homes,  President 
Older  presented  his  petition  asking  the  Conven- 
tion to  investigate  the  trouble  at  Wellington  and 
recommend  further  action  at  a  later  time.  This 
petition  was  made  with  the  hope  that  by  contin- 
ually harassing  Allan  he  would  weary  of  the  strug- 
gle and  retire  of  his  own  accord.  But  President 
Older  had  failed  to  notice  that  the  faithful  Deacon 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  247 

Stanford  was  still  at  the  Convention.  He  had 
feared  such  a  trick  and  was  on  hand  to  expose  it. 
As  soon  as  President  Older  sat  down  the  Deacon 
again  'umped  to  his  feet.  He  threw  away  all  re- 
serve and  carried  the  war  into  the  enemy's  quar- 
ter, attacking  vigorously  the  present  administra- 
tion of  Wellington  College. 

"Who  denies  that  there  was  gambling  there?" 
he  cried.  "Is  it  a  crime  to  expose  such  deviltry 
just  because  it  happens  in  a  Christian  college?" 

He  then  went  on  to  say  that  the  church  was 
unanimous  in  its  support  of  Mr.  Rutledge,  and 
that  he  had  givea  the  church  new  life. 

"It  is  the  college  alone  that  needs  to  be  inves- 
tigated," said  Deacon  Stanford,  in  conclusion,  "and 
I  move  that  a  committee  of  this  Convention  be 
appointed  to,  investigate  the  real  condition  of 
things  in  Wellington  College,  said  committee  to 
lay  the  results  of  their  investigations  before  the 
Board  of  Trustees  of  the  college." 

To  the  intense  disgust  and  humiliation  of  Presi- 
dent Older  this  resolution  carried,  and  a  com- 
mittee was  named,  which  was  composed  of  men  of 
courage  and  integrity. 

Deacon  Stanford  was  jubilant  -vhen  he  returned 
home,  and  in  talking  over  events  with  Allan  he 
exclaimed :  "We  have  not  seen  the  end  yet.  Presi- 
dent Older  has  another  big  slice  of  'humble  pie'  to 
eat  before  he  is  done!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    TRUSTEES    OF    WELLINGTON    COL- 
LEGE  HAVE  A   HOUSECLEANING. 

There  is  an  interesting  story  in  an  ancient  writ- 
ing about  a  man  named  Haman,  who  became 
offended  at  one  of  his  fellow-citizens,  a  certain  Mor- 
decai,  a  rather  good  sort  of  man.  Haman  became 
more  and  more  bitter  in  his  enmity,  and  finally 
plotted  Mordecai's  death.  Building  a  gallows  fifty 
cubits  high,  he  designed  to  ask  as  a  favor  from  the 
king  of  that  country  to  be  given  the  pleasure  of 
suspending  his  enemy,  Mordecai,  from  the  lofty 
gallows.  As  he  was  a  high  favorite  with  the  king, 
he  did  not  anticipate  any  trouble  in  obtaining  this 
favor,  but  a  sudden  turn  in  the  wheel  of  fortune 
brought  Mordecai  under  the  king's  smile,  while 
Haman  fell  into  disgrace.  The  result  was  that  the 
king  hanged  Haman  on  the  gallows  which  he  had 
prepared  for  Mordecai. 

As  President  Older  returned  to  Wellington  after 
the  annual  Convention,  he  felt  much  the  same  as 
Haman  must  have  felt  when  he  found  himself 
about  to  be  suspended  from  his  own  gallows. 
The  college  president  had  prepared  a  pit  for  the 
Rev.  Allan  Rutledge,  but  he  had  fallen  into  his 
own  pit.  Allan  Rutledge  was  the  hero  of  the 
hour,  while  President  Older  realized  that  he  had 

248 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  249 

lost  his  power  in  the  Convention,  and  he  began 
to  fear  for  his  own  future. 

The  Convention  committee  was  to  meet  in  a  few 
weeks  to  investigate  the  college.  The  results  of 
this  investigation  were  dreaded  by  the  presi- 
dent, who  had  been  more  occupied  in  churcn  poli- 
tics than  in  the  proper  administration  of  Welling- 
ton's educational  institution.  So  much  did  Presi- 
dent Older  dread  an  investigation,  that  he  finally 
paid  a  visit  to  the  Wellington  minister,  and  began 
to  beg  for  Allan's  help. 

Allan  was  surprised  to  see  the  former  haughty 
churchman  so  humiliated,  and  he  really  felt  sorry 
for  him,  but  it  was  now  too  late  for  the  college  au- 
thorities to  make  advances  to  the  minister. 

"The  committee  of  the  Convention  must  come 
and  make  its  investigations,"  said  Allan. 

"We  must  arrange  to  have  that  committee  dis- 
missed," answered  President  Older  anxiously. 
"They  will  only  revive  the  scandal  and  hurt  our 
college  just  as  we  are  beginning  the  fall  term." 

"I  can  do  nothing,  sir,"  replied  Allan  gravely. 
"It  is  too  late.  I  offered  you  peace  on  the  Chau- 
tauqua  grounds,  but  you  chose  war." 

The  investigating  committee  met  in  Wellington 
a  few  weeks  later  and  made  a  thorough  investiga- 
tion of  the  college.  Students  were  questioned, 
professors  were  examined,  even  President  Older 
was  compelled  to  answer  a  number  of  pointed 
questions.  The  results  of  the  investigation  were 
4iot  made  public,  but  the  committee  laid  them  be- 
fore a  full  meeting  of  the  board  of  trustees  of  the 
college,  which  met  shortly  after  this. 


250  THE   VICTORY  OF 

This  was  the  first  full  meeting  of  the  board  of 
trustees  that  had  been  held  in  several  years.  A 
few  of  the  trustees  had  previously  attended  en- 
tirely to  the  business  connected  with  the  institu- 
tion. The  result  of  the  widespread  sensation  in 
regard  to  gambling  in  the  college  had  awakened 
the  other  trustees  to  their  duty.  They  came  in 
full  force  to  this  meeting,  fully  determined  to 
have  a  thorough  housecleaning. 

President  Older  and  the  few  trustees  who  had 
formerly  held  control  made  a  desperate  effort  to 
whitewash  the  college  and  to  throw  the  blame  for 
all  the  trouble  on  Allan  Rutledge.  But  this  was 
futile.  The  majority  of  the  trustees  had  heard 
Allan  in  Des  Moines,  when  he  made  his  great 
speech  before  the  Convention,  and  they  were  now 
on  his  side.  In  addition,  the  Convention  commit- 
tee presented  the  results  of  its  investigation,  and 
it  disclosed  an  alarming  state  of  affairs.  It  was 
proved  that  the  social  habits  of  the  college  had 
become  exceedingly  loose.  It  was  shown  that  a 
regular  gambling  class  had  been  holding  meetings 
in  the  college  for  a  long  time  previous  to  its  ex- 
posure and  disorganization  through  Allan  Rut- 
ledge's  newspaper  attack.  The  dances  which  Fred- 
erick Markley  had  organized  every  month  at  the 
college  were  also  scathingly  denounced  as  a  factor 
in  the  growing  spirit  of  irreligion  and  careless 
morals  in  the  institution.  The  committee's  report 
recommended  that  the  college  administration  be 
entirely  reorganized,  and  stating  that  such  a 
change  would  be  necessary  or  the  annual  Conven- 
tion would  be  requested  to  designate  Wellington 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  251 

College  as  an  undesirable  institution  from  a  Chris- 
tian standpoint. 

This  report  stirred  the  trustees  to  immediate 
action.  Professor  Oilman  was  summarily  dis- 
missed, as  unqualified  to  be  an  instructor  in  a 
Christian  college.  President  Older  and  three  other 
professors  were  requested  to  resign.  In  vain  Dr. 
Warren  Miller,  one  of  the  trustees,  pleaded  for  his 
old  associate.  In  vain  some  of  the  local  trustees, 
who  had  no  connection  with  the  Wellington 
Church  and  who  disliked  Allan  Rutledge's  ag- 
gressive Christianity,  tried  to  whitewash  the  situa- 
tion, and  to  retain  President  Older.  The  trustees 
were  determined  to  reshape  the  entire  policy  of  the 
college. 

President  Older  resigned,  and  a  new  president, 
Professor  Richard  Shephard,  was  elected,  a  well 
known  friend  of  Allan's,  who  had  spent  a  year 
abroad  when  the  Wellington  minister  was  study- 
ing also  in  Europe.  Rev.  Allan  Rutledge  was  also 
elected  to  the  board  of  trustees,  in  place  of  Dr. 
Warren  Miller,  who  resigned.  The  breach  be- 
tween the  church  and  college  in  Wellington  was 
fully  healed,  and  new  prosperity  came  to  the  reno- 
vated educational  center. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Allan  Rutledge,  that 
while  these  exciting  scenes  were  being  enacted  at 
the  meeting  of  the  board  of  trustees  of  the  college, 
he  himself  should  be  engaged  in  the  humble, 
though  Christlike  work,  of  visiting  among  the 
lowly. 

While  he  was  calling  at  the  home  of  the  wid- 
owed and  childless  German  woman,  whose  daugh- 


252  THE   VICTORY  OF 

ter  had  died  in  Allan's  presence  some  time  before, 
he  met  Grace  Markley,  and  they  walked  home  to- 
gether. 

"Where  is  your  brother,  Frederick?"  asked  the 
minister,  who  had  not  seen  Miss  Markley,  to  speak 
to,  for  some  little  time. 

"He  is  down  in  Texas  on  a  trip,"  she  answered 
with  a  sad  voice.  "Fred  is  in  poor  health,  and 
something  is  troubling  him  dreadfully." 

"I  believe  your  brother  is  getting  ready  to 
change  his  life,"  said  Allan  hopefully,  and  he  re- 
lated to  her  his  interview  with  Frederick  at  the 
railroad  "bend." 

"I  certainly  hope  and  pray  that  he  may  soon  be 
aroused  to  see  how  he  is  wasting  his  life,"  replied 
the  sister.  "I  have  prayed,  oh,  so  earnestly  for 
Frederick.  He  used  to  be  a  good  boy.  It  was 
such  companions  as  Jamison  White  and  some  of 
the  wilder  students  at  the  college  who  led  him 
astray.  I  often  have  wished  that  you  had  come  to 
Wellington  a  few  years  earlier.  It  would  have 
meant  Frederick's  salvation." 

"I  think  God  is  about  to  answer  your  prayers 
for  your  brother,"  said  the  minister  encouragingly. 
"I  am  always  hopeful  for  the  erring  when  they 
realize  their  condition,  and  I  think  your  brother 
now  sees  he  has  been  living  in  folly.  I  am  going 
to  have  a  good  talk  with  him  when  he  returns." 

"He  will  be  home  in  a  month  or  so.  I  do  not 
think  he  is  being  benefited  any  in  Texas.  It  is 
not  a  change  of  climate  he  needs;  it  is  a  change  of 
heart." 

"I  am  glad  to  see  your  father  attending  church 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  253 

again,"  s#id  Allan  a  little  later.  "Deacon  Stan- 
ford tells  me  that  he  is  not  so  bitter  as  he  was 
against  the  present  minister  in  Wellington." 

"Poor  papa !"  responded  the  girl,  "something  is 
troubling  him,  too.  We  have  been  very  unhappy 
recently  at  our  home.  I  wish  you  could  call  on 
papa  in  his  office.  He  seems  to  have  lost  interest 
in  everything.  He  did  not  even  attend  the  meet- 
ing of  the  college  trustees  to-day.  He  told  us  at 
dinner,  however,  that  the  trustees  are  determined 
to  remove  President  Older." 

"I  am  sorry  for  President  Older,"  said  Allan, 
"but  he  is  reaping  what  he  has  sown.  That  law  of 
the  harvest  is  an  unchangeable  law  of  our  uni- 
verse, and  it  is  a  terrible  law.  I  often  shudder 
when  I  think  of  it.  Men  would  be'  more  careful 
in  their  lives  if  they  did  not  forget  this  unalterable 
and  universal  law." 

"I  know  it,"  said  the  girl  quietly.  "In  my  own 
brief  experience  I  have  seen  that  law  at  work.  But 
Mr.  Rutledge,"  she  went  on  earnestly,  "you  must 
call  on  papa  as  soon  as  you  can.  I  believe  you  can 
help  him.  He  is  almost  as  miserable  as  Fred.  I 
think  he  and  Fred  have  quarreled,  although  papa 
has  not  said  anything  about  it  to  us." 

"I  will  surely  see  him,"  responded  the  minister. 

"Before  I  forget  it,"  said  the  girl  again,  "I  want 
to  congratulate  you  on  your  speech  at  the  Conven- 
tion in  Des  Moines.  The  papers  have  been  full  of 
it  and  Mabel  Grayson  has  written  me  that  Judge 
Grayson  said  it  was  the  best  speech  he  ever  heard. 
She  told  me  I  ought  to  be  proud  of  you." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  your  cousin?"  Allan 


254  THE   VICTORY  OF 

responded  quickly,  ignoring  her  compliment  in  his 
haste. 

"What  makes  you  ask  such  a  question  as  that?" 
asked  Grace  Markley,  in  surprise. 

"She  avoided  me  when  I  was  in  Des  Moines, 
and  she  writes  such  short,  cold,  formal  letters,  so 
different  from  what  she  used  to  write.  After  my 
speech  her  father  came  up  and  spoke  to  me  and 
invited  me  to  supper  at  their  home,  but  Mabel  did 
not  come  near,  although  she  was  sitting  beside  her 
father  in  the  gallery.  I  did  not  see  her  at  all  when 
I  was  in  Des  Moines.  She  was  out  when  I  called, 
and  I  was  not  able  to  go  to  supper  when  the  Judge 
invited  me,  as  it  was  that  evening  I  received  a  tele- 
gram calling  me  back  to  Wellington.  I  wonder 
if  I  have  offended  her  in  any  way,"  Allan  added  in 
a  plaintive  voice. 

"I  really  don't  understand  Mabel  myself  lately," 
said  Grace.  "She  wrote  me  some  time  ago  that 
she  thought  she  would  not  take  the  European  trip, 
and  then  she  hastily  changed  her  mind,  and  she 
and  her  father  go  with  a  party  to  Europe.  They 
sail  November  5th  from  New  York.  She  has  re- 
fused to  visit  Wellington  before  she  starts,  and  I 
sometimes  think  her  letters  to  me  are  not  as  cor- 
dial as  formerly." 

"I  must  arrange  to  see  her  before  she  leaves 
Des  Moines,"  said  the  minister.  "When  I  was 
speaking  at  the  Convention  I  noticed  her  in  the 
audience  and  I  was  reminded  of  the  first  day  I 
ever  saw  her.  It  was  on  my  graduation  day  at 
college.  All  through  my  graduating  oration  I 
could  feel  the  influence  of  her  presence  and  sym- 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  255 

pathy.  It  was  just  the  same  at  the  Convention. 
I  saw  her  in  the  gallery,  sitting  beside  her  father, 
and  I  felt  inspired." 

"You  are  winning  on  every  side,  Mr.  Rutledge," 
said  the  girl,  wishing  to  change  the  conversation. 
"I  should  think  you  would  be  a  happy  man,  since 
you  have  received  the  approbation  of  your  fellow- 
ministers  in  such  a  marked  way.  Your  enemies 
have  been  silenced  and  confounded." 

"I  ought  to  be  happy,"  he  answered  sadly,  "but 
I  am  not.  I  am  grieved  about  Miss  Grayson. 
What  does  the  applause  of  all  Iowa  signify  if  she 
frowns  on  me?" 

Grace  Markley  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
Mabel  Grayson  did  not  in  any  way  return  Allan's 
affection,  of  which  she  had  known  for  some  time, 
and  she  was  desirous  of  turning  his  thoughts  away 
from  Mabel,  and  she  felt  that  only  disappointment 
would  result  from  his  suit.  She  determined,  with 
a  wisdom  beyond  her  years,  to  arouse  him  to  other 
ambitions. 

"For  shame,  Mr.  Rutledge!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Are  all  the  rest  of  us  of  no  account?  Your  duty 
in  life  is  not  to  win  the  affection  of  Mabel  Grayson 
or  any  other  person.  Your  duty  is  a  higher  and 
nobler  mission.  It  is  yours  to  lead  in  the  grand 
work  of  Americanizing  and  Christianizing  this 
varied  population  of  our  wonderful  Middle  West. 
God  has  called  you  to  a  place  of  vast  influence  and 
power.  Do  not  betray  your  cause,  as  Samson  did, 
seeking  your  own  personal  pleasure." 

The  energy  with  which  the  girl  spoke,  the  ring 
of  sincerity  in  her  voice,  the  lofty  vision  of  his  life- 


256   THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE 

work  which  she  described,  caused  Allan  to  stand 
still  and  gaze  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"You  know  I  am  speaking  the  truth,"  the  girl 
continued.  "Providence  has  clearly  indicated  that 
you  are  to  be  one  of  God's  chosen  instruments  in 
laying  deep  and  true  the  foundations  of  Christ's 
kingdom  in  this  favored  Mississippi  valley.  Lift 
up  your  eyes  unto  the  hills,  Mr.  Rutledge.  Am  I 
not  telling  you  God's  plan  for  your  life?" 

Allan  heard  and  understood.  Her  vision  of  his 
mission  became  his  own,  and  he  was  thrilled  at  the 
sight.  But  his  heart — ah,  his  heart  was  human ! 
The  Irish  poet,  Moore,  has  sung: 

"The  heart,  like  the  tendril,  accustomed  to  cling, 
Let  it  grow  where  it  will,  cannot  flourish  alone." 

"Must  I  cease  to  think  of  her?"  he  asked  him- 
self, and  his  heart  answered,  "You  cannot,  you 
cannot !" 

But  a  higher  voice  spoke  within  his  soul.  "You 
can  do  your  duty,"  this  voice  said,  "even  if  your 
heart  is  uncheered  by  the  affection  for  which  it 
hungers."  Allan  Rutledge  girded  up  the  loins  of 
his  soul. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said  slowly  and  emphatical- 
ly, to  Grace  Markley,  as  he  bade  her  farewell.  "I 
will  be  true  to  my  mission  first  of  all.  I  thank 
you  for  reminding  me  that  first  things  must  always 
be  put  first." 

And  with  a  firm  resolve,  but  bleeding  heart,  he 
walked  on  rapidly  through  the  streets  of  Welling- 
ton. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
THE    HUSKING    CONTEST. 

It  was  a  perfect  autumn  morning,  one  day  late 
in  October,  when  Allan  started  for  another  visit 
to  his  father's  home  on  the  Des  Moines  River. 

"I  must  get  away  from  Wellington,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "I  can  fight  out  this  battle  in  my  heart 
better  on  the  old  farm." 

Allan  seemed  born  to  struggle.  His  enemies  in 
the  church  and  college  had  been  utterly  routed. 
He  was  victorious  on  every  side  over  his  external 
foes.  But  an  internal  enemy  had  now  attacked 
him.  He  was  struggling  desperately  with  the  dis- 
appointment he  felt  in  seeing  Mabel  Grayson  slip 
out  of  his  life.  She  had  come  to  figure  so  largely 
in  all  of  his  plans  for  the  future  that  life  without 
her  seemed  a  blank.  Yet,  as  Grace  Markley  ha3 
shown  him,  his  first  duty  was  to  his  life  mission. 
He  acknowledged  this,  but,  to  his  dismay,  he 
found  himself  losing  all  interest,  apparently,  in  his 
work,  and  he  was  unable  to  keep  his  thoughts  from 
dwelling  constantly  on  the  beautiful  daughter  of 
Judge  Grayson. 

"She  is  not  for  me,"  he  said  to  himself  sadly,  on 
that  autumn  day,  as  he  started  away  from  Well- 
ingfbn.  "I  must  crush  this  rebellious  heart  of 
mine.  The  old  farm  will  revive  my  soul." 

257 


258  THE   VICTORY  OF 

He  arrived  at  the  small  town  near  his  father's 
farm  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  at  once  started  to 
walk  into  the  country.  It  was  the  fall  season,  and 
the  golden  ears  of  corn  were  hanging  ripe  on  the 
tall  stalks  ready  to  be  gathered  by  the  hand  of  the1 
farmer.  The  corn  crop  is  gathered  leisurely  by  the 
Iowa  farmers  during  the  weeks  that  follow  the  lat- 
ter part  of  October. 

As  Allan  walked  briskly  along  the  familiar  road 
by  the  side  of  the  Des  Moines  River,  he  met  sev- 
eral farmers  with  their  wagons  loaded  full  with 
the  golden  cereal,  the  first-fruits  of  a  "bumper" 
crop.  Naturally,  his  thoughts  reverted  to  his  walk 
along  the  same  road  a  few  months  before.  How 
changed  all  was  since  then !  Not  only  was  the 
entire  appearance  of  nature  changed,  but  his  own 
circumstances  were  altogether  altered.  Then  he 
was  a  minister  under  fire  and  in  danger  of  com- 
plete defeat.  Now  he  was  the  victorious  leader  of 
his  church  not  only  in  Wellington,  but  in  all  Iowa. 

Deep  gratitude  for  his  victory  welled  up  in  his 
soul.  The  fruitful  fields  around  him  recalled  to 
his  mind  the  devout  words  of  an  ancient  Eastern 
poet:  "Thou  crownest  the  year  with  thy  good- 
ness and  thy  paths  drop  fatness.  They  drop  upon 
the  pastures  of  the  wilderness :  and  the  little  hills 
rejoice  on  every  side.  The  pastures  are  clothed 
with  flocks;  the  valleys  also  are  covered  over  with 
corn;  they  shout  for  joy,  they  also  sing." 

"These  words  describe  God's  goodness  to  my 
own  beloved  Iowa,"  said  Allan  to  himself. 

Then  the  river  recalled  to  his  mind  the  happy 
days  at  the  "camp"  with  Mabel  Grayson  and  her 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

friends,  and  a  gloom  came  into  his  soul.  The 
darkness  was  deepening  around  him  and  he  began 
to  repeat  slowly  to  himself  the  pathetic  words  of 
Gray's  "Elegy": 

"The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day, 
The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea, 
The  plowman  homeward  wends  his  weary  way, 
And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me." 

"Yes,"  he  went  on,  thinking  aloud,  "I  am  left 
alone  with  my  darkness.  Mabel  desires  to  be  my 
friend,  but  I  can  plainly  see  my  suit  displeases  her. 
She  honors  me  as  a  minister  of  Christ  and  respects 
me  as  a  man,  but,  alas!  she  can  never  understand 
how  desolate  she  has  left  my  heart." 

With  such  sad  thoughts  in  his  mind,  Allan  ar- 
rived at  the  old  farm  and  entered  his  father's  gate. 
His  welcome  home  was  so  cordial  and  hearty  that 
his  spirits  rose  at  once. 

"Hail  to  the  Chief !"  sang  out  his  sister,  Edith. 

"I  am  proud  of  you,  my  boy,"  said  his  father. 
"All  the  newspapers  have  been  ringing  with  your 
praises  since  your  great  speech  at  the  Convention 
at  Des  Moines." 

His  mother  said  nothing,  simply  throwing  her 
arms  around  his  neck  and  giving  him  a  sincere 
kiss  of  welcome  and  affection.  Allan  was  happy, 
for  there  is  no  praise  like  that  of  the  home  folks. 

"Here  is  a  letter  that  will  surprise  you,"  said 
his  mother,  a  little  later.  "We  were  so  glad  to  get 
it  yesterday.  You  have  come  home  just  in  time." 

Allan's  eyes  opened  wide  in  astonishment,  as  he 


260  THE   VICTORY  OF 

read  the    following   letter   which   his    mother   had 
handed  to  him: 

"Des  Moines,  Iowa,"  October  25,  190 — . 

"My  Dear  Mrs.  Rutledge:  I  am  expecting  to 
start  on  a  trip  to  Europe  in  a  few  days,  but  I  have 
not  forgotten  my  promise  to  visit  you  in  corn- 
gathering  time.  I  shall  be  down  on  Wednesday 
of  this  week  to  spend  a  day  with  you,  arriving  on 
the  early  morning  train.  I  expect  some  of  you 
can  meet  me  at  the  station.  I  shall  be  glad  to  see 
you  all  again,  and  I  am  bringing  you  a  book  which 
I  know  you  will  enjoy.  Your  loving  friend, 

"Mabel  Grayson." 

Allan  at  first  was  too  amazed  to  speak.  Then 
a  thrill  of  joy  possessed  him.  At  least  he  would 
see  her  again! 

"You  can  drive  over  to  the  station  for  her  to- 
morrow morning,"  said  his  mother  to  Allan. 
"You  got  here  just  in  time  to  be  useful." 

"I  surely  will !"  he  responded,  so  eagerly  that  his 
mother  exclaimed :  "Ah,  you  knew  she  was  coming 
and  you  have  come  up  to  see  her,  not  us !" 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all!"  he  answered.  "I  have 
not  heard  from  Miss  Grayson  for  some  time.  I 
had  no  idea  whatever  of  meeting  her  here." 

"Still,  you  are  glad  she  is  coming,"  interjected 
his  sister,  Edith.  "I  can  tell  it  from  your  eyes." 

"Bravo !"  cried  Paul,  a  younger  brother  of  Al- 
lan's. "To-morrow  is  to  be  a  great  day,  all  right. 
Our  husking  contest  comes  off  to-morrow.  It  will 
be  grand  to  have  visitors  from  Wellington  and  Des 
Moines." 

*'What  husking  contest?"  asked  Allan. 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  £61 

"Roger  Manning  and  I,"  said  Paul  Rutledge, 
"are  to  decide  who  is  the  best  husker  to-morrow. 
He  has  been  bragging  about  what  he  can  do,  and 
I  challenged  him  to  a  contest.  I  have  been  train- 
ing for  it  for  over  a  week." 

"I  shall  certainly  enjoy  an  old-fashioned  husking 
contest,"  said  Allan.  "It  will  remind  me  of  old 
times,  when  I  used  to  gather  corn  myself." 

Allan  had  difficulty  in  sleeping  that  night.  The 
long,  long  memories  of  boyhood  thronged  through 
his  mind,  the  excitement  of  his  homecoming,  the 
anticipated  meeting  with  Mabel  Grayson  and  the 
drive  alone  with  her  from  the  station,  all  combined 
to  drive  away  sleep,  and  fill  his  soul  with  thrilling 
emotions. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  when  sleep  finally 
came  and  his  joys  and  sorrows,  triumphs  and  de- 
feats, were  all  forgotten  in  slumber.  How  won- 
derful is  sleep !  Waving  its  mystic  wand  over 
wearied  humanity,  it  breathes  fresh  life  into  the 
unconscious  souls  of  men. 

The  sun  was  up,  and  the  entire  household  was 
astir  when  Allan's  profound  slumbers  were  dis- 
turbed by  loud  knocking  at  his  door. 

"Get  up,  Allan!"  his  brother,  Paul,  was  saying. 
"It  is  nearly  time  to  start  for  the  station." 

Allan  bestirred  himself  quickly,  and  dressing 
hastily,  hurried  down  to  breakfast.  After  the 
meal  he  accompanied  his  father  to  the  barn  to 
assist  in  hitching  up  the  driving  team. 

Harnessed  to  a  new  buggy,  the  prancing  horses 
made  a  pretty  picture,  and  Allan's  father  and 
mother  watched  him  drive  out  to  the  road,  with 


262  THE  VICTORY  OF, 

the  easy  mastery  of  an  experienced  driver,  their 
hearts  went  out  to  the  strong,  capable,  preacher- 
son. 

"He  is  a  good  boy,"  said  the  father,  as  the  buggy 
disappeared  swiftly  down  the  road. 

"I  always  knew  my  Allan  would  do  a  great  work 
in  the  world,"  responded  the  mother,  with  a  tear 
of  happiness  in  her  eye.  "He  has  Abraham  Lin- 
coln's purity  of  soul  and  the  courage  of  a  Martin 
Luther.  I  well  knew  he  would  win  a  victory  in 
Wellington." 

Shortly  after  Allan  reached  the  station,  the  morn- 
ing train  from  Des  Moines  rolled  in.  The  conduc- 
tor and  brakeman  jumped  off  and  a  few  passengers 
began  to  alight.  With  a  bound  of  joy  in  his  heart, 
Allan  saw  Mabel  Grayson  step  down  on  the  plat- 
form. She  looked  around  inquiringly  and  their 
eyes  met. 

"You  Allan !"  she  exclaimed,  so  enthusiastically 
that  he  thought  his  ears  had  deceived  him.  He 
was  about  to  reply  eagerly,  "Yes,  Mabel,  are  you 
glad  to  see  me?"  when  she  quickly  recovered  her- 
self and  added,  "Mr.  Rutledge,  I  mean." 

She  spoke  in  a  strained  voice  and  Allan  at  once 
thought  she  had  read  his  eyes,  and  that  she  had 
purposely  repelled  him  coldly. 

"I  will  not  torment  her  with  my  attentions,"  he 
thought  to  himself.  "She  is  mother's  guest.  I 
will  say  nothing  to  her  to-day." 

Mabel  Grayson  noticed  his  constraint  and  imag- 
ined it  resulted  from  his  desire  to  be  friendly,  but 
not  too  friendly. 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  263 

"He  shall  not  know  my  heart,"  she  said  within 
herself. 

Thus  it  was  that  owing  to  misunderstandings 
on  both  sides  these  two  natures,  mutually  so  at- 
tracted to  each  other,  kept  wide  apart  during  the 
entire  drive  from  the  station  to  the  Rutledge  farm. 

Scientists  tell  us  that  oxygen  and  hydrogen, 
though  capable  of  uniting  their  elements  in  the 
lovely  unity  of  the  sparkling  dewdrop,  yet  can  re- 
main side  by  side  indefinitely,  as  separate  elements, 
unless  an  electric  spark  flashes  through  them.  So 
that  morning  these  two  congenial  natures  kept 
apart  from  each  other.  Had  the  electric  spark — 
"I  love  you" — only  flashed  from  Allan's  lips,  their 
two  hearts  would  have  flowed  together  like  water, 
but  Mabel  gave  no  outward  encouragement,  and 
Allan  fiercely  quenched  the  spark  that  almost 
emitted  itself  in  spite  of  him. 

Still  it  was  a  drive  long  remembered  by  both. 
The  road  wound , along  the  river,  shaded  by  trees, 
for  the  most  part,  and  made  romantic  looking  by 
the  glades,  richly  wooded,  along  the  banks. 

"Do  you  remember  the  night  you  sang,  'Ye 
Banks  and  Braes  o'  Bonnie  Doon'  at  the  'camp' 
last  summer?"  Allan  asked,  when  the  road  skirted 
so  near  the  river  that  they  could  hear  its  gentle 
swish  against  the  banks. 

"I  certainly  do !"  answered  Mabel.  "We  enjoyed 
ourselves  that  night." 

"I  wish  it  could  have  lasted  forever,"  said  Allan 
pathetically. 

Mabel  did  not  understand  his  meaning  and  she 


264  THE  VICTORY  Oft 

was  silent.  He  took  it  as  a  fresh  rebuff  and  be- 
gan to  speak  to  her  about  her  trip  to  Europe. 

"You  ought  to  visit  Scotland  and  see  the  places 
which  Robert  Burns  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  have 
immortalized  by  their  genius,"  he  began. 

"We  intend  to  visit  the  British  Isles  on  our  way 
home,"  she  answered. 

"What  is  your  itinerary  for  your  trip?"  asked 
Allan,  glad  to  find  a  congenial  topic  of  conversa- 
tion. 

The  girl  was  also  glad  to  go  into  details.  She 
described  fully  their  plans.  They  expected  to  go 
direct  from  New  York  to  Egypt,  passing  down  the 
Nile  as  far  as  Asyut. 

"I  have  a  dear  friend  who  is  a  medical  mission- 
ary in  Asyut,"  said  Mabel.  "She  is  the  head  nurse 
in  the  operating  department  of  the  American  hos- 
pital there." 

The  journey  from  Egypt  to  Palestine  was  to  be 
made  overland,  following  the  footsteps  of  Moses 
and  the  children  of  Israel.  After  a  tour  through 
the  Holy  Land,  they  planned  to  visit  the  famous 
countries  of  Europe,  finishing  the  trip  by  an  ex- 
tended visit  to  England,  Scotland  and  Ireland. 

"How  delightful  a  program !"  said  Allan  en- 
thusiastically. "How  I  wish  I  could  accompany 
your  party!"  He  then  began  to  speak  of  some  of 
the  interesting  European  places  which  he  himself 
had  visited. 

All  at  once  Mabel  cried  out:  "Here  we  are  at 
your  home,  and  yonder  is  your  father  and  mother 
awaiting  us.  What  a  short  drive  it  was!" 

Mrs.  Rutledge  welcomed  Miss  Grayson  heartily, 


'ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  265 

exclaiming :  "How  fortunate  that  Allan  came  up ! 
[You  both  seem  to  have  enjoyed  your  drive." 

"I  certainly  did  not  expect  to  meet  your  son," 
said  Mabel,  with  a  blush;  "but  I  thought  I  could 
not  start  for  Europe  without  seeing  you  again. 
Here  is  a  book  I  brought  you,"  she  added,  taking 
a  handsomely  bound  book  out  of  her  handbag  and 
handing  it  to  Allan's  mother. 

It  was  a  copy  of  "The  Story  of  Ann  Rutledge," 
an  edition  de  luxe  of  which  had  just  been  issued. 

"Thank  you;  thank  you,  very  much,"  said  Mrs. 
Rutledge,  as  she  looked  at  the  volume.  "I  have 
heard  of  this  book  and  I  am  so  glad  to  get  it.  I 
knew  the  world  would  some  day  appreciate  the 
story  of  Ann  Rutledge." 

"It  is  a  most  interesting  book,  and  it  is  being 
very  widely  read,"  answered  Mabel.  "Ann  Rut- 
ledge  seems  a  relative  of  mine  now." 

"Would  that  she  might  be !"  said  Allan,  who 
was  standing  close  by  and  who  noticed  the  tender- 
ness in  Mabel's  voice  when  she  referred  to  the 
woman  who  won  Abraham  Lincoln's  love,  but  he 
repeated  these  words  within  his  own  heart.  Noth- 
ing but  a  sigh  escaped  his  lips. 

When  they  gathered  for  dinner,  Allan  found  his 
brothers  were  greatly  excited  over  the  husking 
contest  which  had  begun  that  morning.  The  two 
contestants  had  gathered  about  an  equal  number 
of  bushels  during  the  morning,  but  Paul  Rutledge 
w^s  confident  of  victory. 

"I  am  still  as  fresh  as  a  daisy,"  he  said,  as  he 
arose  from  the  table  ui>d  took  a  brief  rest.  Thirty 
minutes  was  allowed  for  dinner. 


266  THE   VICTORY  OF, 

"We  will  be  out  in  the  field  this  afternoon  to 
watch  the  close  of  the  contest/'  said  Allan,  as  Paul 
went  out  "I  wish  you  success." 

The  work  of  husking  corn,  rapidly,  requires  skill 
and  endurance.  The  husker  rips  open  the  shucks 
which  protect  the  growing  corn  with  one  hand, 
grasping  the  ear  of  corn  with  the  other,  and  deftly 
breaks  it  off  the  stem,  leaving  the  shucks  hanging 
empty  on  the  stalk.  Every  ear  of  corn  in  all  the 
millions  upon  millions  of  bushels  grown  in  the 
Middle  West  is  gathered  in  this  way,  ear  by  ear, 
every  fall.  It  is  an  enormous  task,  as  it  is  a  large 
day's  work  for  the  average  husker  to  gather  eighty 
bushels  in  one  day. 

The  monotony  of  corn  gathering  is  varied  occa- 
sionally by  some  such  contest  as  was  going  on 
that  day  on  the  Rutledge  farm.  At  these  contests 
the  amount  of  corn  gathered  by  one  man  is  often 
remarkable.  On  this  occasion,  the  two  contestants, 
Paul  Rutledge  and  Roger  Manning,  a  neighboring 
farmer's  son,  were  gathering  in  the  same  field,  but 
they  had  begun  at  opposite  sides,  so  as  not  to  in- 
terfere with  one  another.  As  the  afternoon  wore 
on  the  spectators  increased,  until  they  were  lining 
the  field.  As  is  always  the  case,  both  of  the  rivals 
had  their  friends,  and  there  was  much  speculation 
as  to  the  winner.  Mabel  Grayson  had  never  seen 
such  a  contest  before  and  she  was  greatly  inter- 
ested. 

Both  of  the  huskers  were  attended  by  two 
wagons,  which  were  kept  busy  hauling  away  the 
corn.  An  accurate  account  of  the  number  of  bush- 
els gathered  by  each  was  kept  and  a  report  was 


'ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  267 

made  at  regular  intervals,  as  in  games  like  base- 
ball. Both  of  the  young  men  were  breaking  off 
the  corn  with  remarkable  quickness.  They  were 
a  well  matched  pair,  and  the  outcome,  in  spite  of 
Paul's  confidence,  was  doubtful.  Within  an  hour 
of  quitting  time  the  race  was  still  neck  to  neck. 
The  rivals  increased  their  speed. 

"Just  half  an  hour  to  quitting  time!"  shouted 
the  judge  of  the  contest. 

The  young  men  were  now  working  like  demons. 
They  were  clad  only  in  shirt  and  overalls.  The 
corn  was  rattling  into  the  wagons  like  hail  on  a 
roof.  The  gloves,  which  all  huskers  wear  to  pro- 
tect their  hands,  were  being  changed  again  and 
again,  as  they  soon  tore  them  to  tatters.  The 
judge  mounted  a  wagon  to  make  another  an- 
nouncement. 

"There  are  fifteen  minutes'  time  left!'  he  cried. 
"Both  have  exactly  125  bushels. 

This  was  a  record-breaking  score,  and  showed 
that  the  two  rivals  were  the  choice  corn  huskers 
of  the  neighborhood.  Paul  Rutledge  had  some  of 
his  elder  brother's  determination,  and  he  threw 
himself  on  the  cornstalks  with  a  fury  that  resem- 
bled that  of  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  hurling  him- 
self against  the  hosts  of  the  Saladin.  His  arms 
flew  faster  and  faster.  He  was  making  a  final 
spurt,  determined  to  win  the  goal  or  die  in  the  at- 
tempt. 

^Look  at  Paul!"  said  Mabel  to  Allan.  "How 
can  he  do  it?" 

Anyone  could  see  he  was  using  every  ounce  of 
energy  in  his  body.  His  breath  was  coming  in 


268  TEE   VICTORY  OF. 

short  gasps.  His  face  was  red,  streaming  with 
perspiration.  His  hair  was  disheveled,  his  shirt 
wet  through  with  sweat.  Friends  held  a  dipper 
of  water  in  front  of  him  occasionally  and  he  lapped 
out  of  it,  without  ceasing  a  moment  in  his  strenu- 
ous battle  with  the  ears  of  corn. 

But  Roger  Manning  was  also  determined.  It 
was  a  battle  royal.  Greek  had  met  Greek.  As  in 
former  days,  when  knights  of  equal  valor  met  in 
the  tournament  and  were  at  last  compelled  to  fin- 
ish with  honors  even,  so  it  seemed  that  the  husk- 
ing contest  was  to  end  in  a  draw.  The  crowd 
closed  in  around  the  boys  and  cheered  them  on. 
They  were  struggling  now  almost  side  by  side. 

"Five  minutes  more!"  shouted  the  judge,  hold- 
ing his  watch  in  his  hand. 

The  excitement  was  intense.  Not  a  sound  was 
heard  except  the  "snap"  of  ears  of  corn,  as  they 
broke  off  from  the  stalk,  and  their  rattle  as  they 
fell  into  the  wagons,  thrown  there  wildly  by  the 
now  desperate  contestants. 

The  veins  stood  out  on  Paul's  temples  like  whip- 
cords. His  eyes  blazed  with  fire  and  determina- 
tion. Allan  was  close  beside  him,  whispering  en- 
couragement. 

"Steady,  Paul;  keep  up  that  swing  and  victory 
is  yours.  Steady,"  he  whispered  again,  as  Paul 
almost  missed  an  ear  in  his  mad  onward  rush  from 
stalk  to  stalk. 

Faster  and  still  faster  flew  his  hands.  One  was 
reminded  of  Robert  Burns'  description  of  the  mid- 
night dancers  in  Alloway  Kirk,  when  the  aston- 
ished Tom  o'  Shanter 


'ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  269 

"glower'd  amazed  and  curious, 
And  mirth  and  fun  grew  fast  and  furious: 
The  piper  loud  and  louder  blew: 
The  dancers  quick  and  quicker  flew: 
They  reeled,  they  set,  they  crossed,  they  cleekit, 
Till  ilka   carlin  sweat  and  reekit." 

Such  was  the  scene  as  Paul  Rutledge  and  Roger 
Manning  finished  their  long  remembered  husking 
contest,  amid  the  crowd  of  neighbors,  mute  with 
astonishment. 

"Time!"  yelled  the  judge,  and  Paul  stopped  with 
a  strong  effort.  He  would  have  fallen  to  the 
ground  had  not  Allan's  strong  arm  grasped  him. 

"You  have  won!"  said  Allan  in  his  ear.  "You 
made  a  full  five  bushels  in  that  last  fifteen  min- 
utes. It  was  grand!" 

In  a  few  minutes  the  judge  announced  the  result 
of  the  contest:  "Paul  Rutledge,  130  bushels;  Roger, 
Manning,  128  bushels." 

Cheers  rent  the  air,  even  Mannings'  friends 
joining  in  the  applause  and  congratulations  to  the 
plucky  winner.  Paul's  chums  shouldered  him  and 
bore  him  in  triumph  out  of  the  cornfield  with  as 
much  enthusiasm  as  greeted  the  winner  of  the  far- 
famed  Marathon  races  on  the  Corinthian  isthmus. 

The  next  morning  Mabel  Grayson  left  for  her 
home  in  Des  Moines.  Allan  drove  her  to  the  sta- 
tion in  the  family  carriage,  his  father  and  mother 
accompanying  them.  To  the  very  last  Allan  felt 
that  Mabel  treated  him  with  a  distant  reserve. 

As  the  train  bearing  her  away  from  him,  per- 
haps forever,  pulled  out  of  the  station,  his  hungry 


270  THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

heart  said :  "Ah,  if  she.  only  knew,  she  would  have 
given  me,  at  least,  one  last  word!" 

How  little  we  know  oftentimes  about  the  inward 
thoughts  of  others!  At  that  very  moment  on  the 
train  Mabel  Grayson's  fair  head  leaned  heavily  on 
her  hand.  Tears  were  trickling  from  her  eyes. 
Oh,  Allan,  Allan!"  she  moaned  to  herself,  "I  fear 
I  can  never  forget  you,  but  neither  Grace  nor  you 
shall  ever  know." 

And  their  misunderstanding  all  came  about 
through  Frederick  Markley's  light  remarks  about 
the  Wellington  minister  the  day  he  called  on  Mabel 
Grayson  at  her  father's  home.  This  had  prepared 
her  mind  to  accept  the  conclusion  that  he  was  en- 
gaged to  Grace  Markley,  a  conclusion  which  a  let- 
ter from  that  lady  herself  had  unwittingly  served 
to  confirm. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
FRANK  ANTOL'S  FATEFUL  DISCOVERY. 

Allan  Rutledge  returned  from  his  father's  farm 
in  a  discouraged  mood.  His  unexpected  meeting 
with  Mabel  Grayson  made  him  more  wretched 
than  before.  He  had  fresh  proof  in  this  meeting 
that,  though  she  regarded  him  as  a  friend,  any 
attempt  on  his  part  to  win  a  nearer  claim  would 
be  studiously  repelled  by  her.  He  was  in  his 
study  one  Friday  morning,  preparing  his  message 
for  the  coming  Sabbath  morning.  He  was  study- 
ing a  theme  that  always  heretofore  had  warmed 
his  heart,  for  he  had  chosen  as  his  text,  "The  king- 
dom of  God  is  amongst  you";  but  he  could  not 
concentrate  his  mind  on  his  task.  He  found  his 
thoughts  wandering  to  the  Des  Moines  River.  He 
could  see  the  camp  fire  blazing  and  hear  Mabel 
Grayson  again,  singing  with  all  the  pathos  in  her 
soul  the  song  of  Burns: 

"How   can   ye   chant,  ye   little  birds, 
And  I  sae  weary,  fu'  o'  care." 

Jlis  day  dream  was  rudely  interrupted.  Without 
any  preliminary  warning,  without  a  knock,  the 
door  of  his  study  was  flung  open  and  Frank  Antol 

271 


272  THE   VICTORY  OF, 

bounded  in  with  the  air  of  a  man  fleeing-  for  his 
life.  His  hat  was  gone.  His  eyes  were  staring. 
He  was  breathless  and  unable  to  speak,  as  he  stop- 
ped in  front  of  Allan  and  pushed  a  postal-card  and 
a  worn  piece  of  paper  into  the  hands  of  the  startled 
minister. 

"What's  the  matter,  Frank?"  exclaimed  Allan, 
taking  the  papers  out  of  his  trembling  hand  and 
rising  to  his  feet. 

"Read !  read !"  gasped  the  youth. 

"Sit  down !  sit  down !"  responded  the  minister, 
recovering  his  own  self-control  and  assisting  the 
exhausted  boy  to  a  chair.  He  sat  watching  Allan 
with  glaring  eyes  as  the  minister  began  to  read 
the  postal  card.  At  a  glance  Allan  understood. 
He  saw  at  once  that  the  writing  on  the  postal-card 
was  the  same  peculiar  handwriting  that  was  on  the 
note  Frank's  sister  had  received  on  the  day  of  her 
tragic  death.  The  other  paper  which  Frank  Antol 
handed  him,  was  this  very  note,  so  that  there  could 
be  no  mistake.  It  was  a  peculiar  kind  of  feigned1 
writing,  and  the  same  hand  had  written  both  note 
and  postal-card.  The  secret  was  revealed.  The 
time  had  come  for  the  vindication  of  Viola  Antol's 
honor,  and  for  vengeance  on  her  destroyer.  The 
harvest  of  sin  had  come,  bringing  with  it  an  awful 
damnation.  Utterly  ignorant  as  yet  of  the  whole 
truth,  but  assured  that  another  tragedy  was  about 
to  blacken  the  Wellington  sky,  Allan  Rutledge 
groaned  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  The 
boy  regained  his  composure  somewhat  and  began 
his  story. 

"It  was  just  a  few  minutes  ago  I  found  out,"  he 


'ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  273 

gasped,  and  Allan  could  see  that  even  his  teeth 
chattered  in  his  agitation.  "I  was  in  the  office 
alone  and  Frederick  Markley  came  in.  He  just 
returned  from  the  South  yesterday.  He  asked  for 
a  postal-card  and  I  handed  it  to  him.  He  wrote  on 
the  card  and  handed  it  back  to  me  to  put  in  the 
mail  box.  I  glanced  at  the  writing,  by  accident, 
and  I  almost  fainted.  It  was  identically  the  same 
as  that  on  Viola's  note.  To  make  sure  there  was 
no  mistake  I  took  out  the  note,  which  I  always 
have  carried  with  me,  and  then  I  realized  that 
Frederick  Markley  was  my  sister's  murderer.  I 
lost  all  self-control  as  the  truth  dawned  on  me.  I 
gave  a  wild  cry  and  rushed  from  the  office,  coming 
directly  to  you.  Only  one  thing  saved  his  life.  I 
remembered  he  was  Grace  Markley's  brother. 
What  shall  I  do  sir?  Oh,  what  shall  I  do?" 

Allan  examined  the  postal-card  again.  It  was  a 
note  to  a  boon  companion  of  young  Markley's  at 
Des  Moines,  and  was  signed  "Fred."  The  hand- 
writing was  disguised  exactly  the  same  as  that  on 
Viola's  note.  There  was  no  mistake  possible. 
Frederick  Markley  was  Viola's  murderer ! 

"He  cannot  live !  he  cannot  live !"  cried  Viola's 
brother,  and  in  Allan's  ears  the  words  sounded  as 
the  cry  of  Vengeance. 

"Frank,"  said  the  minister,  after  a  pause,  "leave 
this  all  with  me.  Go  home  and  pray.  You  are  not 
God's  minister  of  vengeance.  Any  wrong  act  by 
you  now  would  only  rob  your  father  and  mother  of 
tneir  son,  who  is  their  sole  remaining  comfort  and 
hope.  I  must  think  myself  before  I  decide  what 
my  duty  is.  Trust  me,  rny  boy." 


274  THE   VICTORY  OF 

As  he  spoke  these  last  words  Allan  put  out  his 
hand  in  sympathy.  Frank  Antol  arose  and  grasped 
it,  and  bowing  his  head  on  their  clasped  hands,  he 
gave  way  to  an  outburst  of  weeping  so  violent  that 
the  minister  had  to  support  him  or  he  would  have 
fallen  to  the  floor. 

"My  God !  O  my  God,  help  me !"  groaned  the 
youth  as  he  sank  back  again  into  his  chair. 

The  minister  understood  the  awful  struggle  go- 
ing on  in  the  heart  of  the  youth.  The  young 
Bohemian's  wild  nature,  handed  down  to  him  from 
his  ancestors,  was  unchained  and  clamoring  for 
vengeance,  but  his  Christian  conscience  was  wak- 
ing up  his  better  self,  and  the  fearful  battle  in  his 
soul  between  passion  and  conscience  was  terrible 
to  witness. 

In  silent  sympathy,  Allan  stood  by  his  side,  his 
arm  around  his  neck,  his  eyes  wet  with  tears.  Not 
a  v,  ord  was  spoken  for  fully  ten  minutes.  Ah,  into 
ten  minutes  sometimes  is  crowded  the  experience 
of  years!  Calmed,  strengthened,  assured  by  the 
strong,  righteous,  trusted  man  who  stood  beside 
him,  Frank  Antol's  nobler  life  won  the  day.  The 
lion  within  him  which  roared  for  its  prey  was 
chained  again. 

"I  will  go  home,"  at  length  he  said,  speaking 
very  slowly,  "and  tell  my  mother  all.  She  will 
help  me."  And  then  he  added :  "Poor  Miss  Grace ! 
Think  of  her!" 

Without  another  word  he  left,  and  Allan  Rut- 
ledge  was  alone  with  one  of  the  most  soul-distress- 
ing problems  that  mortal  man  ever  faced.  He  laid 
the  two  damning  documents  on  his  desk — the 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  275 

postal-card  signed  "Fred,"  which  Frank  Antol  had 
seen  Frederick  Markley  write,  and  the  note  which 
Frank  had  found  in  Viola's  room. 

What  was  he  to  do?  "Poor  Miss  Grace!  Think 
of  her!"  The  youth's  last  words  rang  in  his  ears. 
He  was  thinking  of  her,  of  the  awful  disgrace  that 
would  be  hers  when  her  brother  was  arrested  for 
murder,  of  her  agony  of  soul  over  her  brother's 
crime. 

Then  began  his  own  struggle.  A  verse  from  the 
Book  which  guided  his  life  flashed  through  his 
mind:  "Vengeance  is  mine;  I  will  repay,  saith  the 
Lord." 

"Why  need  you  do  anything  about  this  whole 
matter,"  whispered  an  insinuating  voice  in  his 
soul.  "God  is  the  just  Judge.  Keep  all  quiet. 
Hush  the  matter  up.  Remember  Grace  Markley, 
your  church  and  the  community.  Do  not  stir  up 
scandal.  Love  covers  sin." 

"Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan,"  said  the  Welling- 
ton minister,  the  successor  of  Doctor  Anning,  ris- 
ing and  looking  around  as  though  seeking  to  find 
his  adversary  and  hurl  him  from  his  presence.  As 
he  thought  of  those  dread  moments  afterward, 
Allan  Rutledge  recalled  to  his  mind  the  incident  in 
Martin  Luther's  life  which  Carlyle  describes  so 
graphically:  "In  the  room  of  the  Wartburg,  where 
he  sat  translating  the  Bible,  they  still  show  you  a 
black  spot  on  the  wall — the  strange  memorial  of 
^>ne  of  Luther's  conflicts.  Luther  sat  translating 
one  of  the  Psalms;  he  was  worn  down  with  long- 
labor  and  abstinence  from  food;  there  rose  before 
him  some  hideous,  indefinable  image,  which  he  took 


276  THE   VICTORY  OF 

for  the  Evil  One,  to  forbid  his  work.  Luther  start- 
ed up,  with  fiend  defiance,  flung  his  inkstand  at  the 
specter,  and  it  disappeared.  The  spot  still  remains 
there,  a  curious  monument  of  several  things."  The 
black  spot  testifies  to  the  white  soul  of  the  German 
reformer,  who  refused,  even  in  thought,  to  com- 
promise with  evil. 

When  Allan  Rutledge  had  thus  defied  the  in- 
sinuating voice  within  him,  a  nobler  word  came  to 
his  perplexed  mind.  Longfellow's  couplet  was  re- 
membered : 

"Leave  unto    the    Lord    the   rest. 
Do  thy  duty,  that  is  best:" 

As  the  minister  continued  in  deep  thought,  still 
another  voice  spoke.  He  bowred  his  head  in  rever- 
ence and  he  seemed  to  hear  the  great  War  Presi- 
dent himself  speak  in  his  ear  these  words :  "With 
malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all,  with  firm- 
ness in  the  right,  as  God  gives  me  to  see  the 
right." 

Allan  Rutledge  had  determined  on  his  course  of 
conduct.  "I  shall  see  Frederick  Markley  himself," 
he  decided.  "The  laws  of  our  land  must  be  honor- 
ed. The  unfortunate  man  must  answer  for  his 
crime  to  God's  ministers  of  justice  on  earth." 

When  he  had  finally  made  up  his  mind,  Allan 
felt  a  wonderful  relief.  His  pathway  was  still 
rough  enough,  but  he  could  see  plainly  the  path  in 
which  he  must  walk.  A  secret  source  of  strength 
seemed  to  impart  energy  to  his  life  the  moment  he 
decided  to  do  the  right,  regardless  of  cost  or  conse- 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  277 

quence.  Shortly  after  dinner  he  called  up  the 
Markley  home  on  the  telephone.  Grace  answered 
the  call. 

"Can  I  speak  to  Frederick?"  asked  Allan. 

"Certainly,"  she  replied.  "He  came  home  yes- 
terday. Here  he  is." 

"Can  you  meet  me  at  the  officers'  room  in  the 
church  at  two  o'clock  to-day?"  asked  the  minister 
of  Frederick  Markley.  "I  have  a  matter  of  great 
importance  to  talk  over  with  you." 

Frank  Antol's  conduct  at  the  office  in  the  morn- 
ing had  created  a  panic  in  young  Markley's  soul. 
He  had  a  presentiment  that  the  coils  were  tighten- 
ing around  him. 

"All  right,"  he  answered,  and  Allan  noticed  dis- 
tinctly the  tremble  in  his  voice. 

At  two  o'clock  the  two  men  met  in  the  officers' 
room  at  the  church.  It  was  a  pathetic  scene. 
Broken  in  health,  hounded  by  his  evil  genius, 
[Jamison  White,  tortured  by  an  aroused  conscience 
and  now  confronted  with  his  awful  crime  against 
Viola  Antol,  Frederick  Markley  quailed  in  terror 
before  Allan  Rutledge,  as  the  minister  of  the  Wel- 
lington Church  asked  the  former  choir  leader  for  a 
full  confession. 

"I  will  tell  you  all,  sir !"  he  exclaimed ;  "but  save 
me !  oh,  save  me !" 

"Tell  me  your  story,"  said  Allan  gravely. 

And  the  wretched  man  told  it  all.  He  told  of 
/iis  sin  against  the  Frisbie  home  and  of  his  rela- 
tions with  Jamison  White.  He  related,  in  full,  the 
tragedy  of  Viola  Antol's  betrayal  and  death.  As 
[Allan  listened  to  the  man's  story  of  his  moral  mad- 


278  THE   VICTORY  OF 

ness,  its  recital  called  forth  a  response  from  every 
emotion  in  the  gamut  of  his  soul.  He  was  stirred 
with  pity  for  the  wrecked  life  before  him.  He 
boiled  with  indignation  at  Viola's  wrongs.  His 
heart  bled  in  sympathy  with  the  members  of  the 
two  homes  which  this  man's  sin  had  desolated. 
After  all,  the  story  was  not  an  unusual  one.  Tir- 
ing of  Mrs.  Frisbie,  Frederick  Markley  had  been 
attracted  by  the  rare  beauty  of  Viola  Antol.  He 
began  paying  her  attentions  and  seeking  to  win 
her  regard.  Although  the  difference  in  their  social 
station  was  so  great,  they  met  on  equal  terms  at 
the  church,  and  especially  at  choir  practices.  This 
sin-blinded  son  of  wealthy  American  parents  de- 
liberately sought  the  ruin  of  the  pure,  simple- 
minded,  sincere,  Christian  foreigner.  He  won 
Viola's  confidence.  He  asked  her  hand  in  mar- 
riage, leading  her  on  step  by  step,  desiring  first  a 
secret  wedding,  that  his  parents  might  not  inter- 
fere. At  a  mock  wedding,  in  which  Jamison  White 
acted  as  a  justice  of  the  peace,  the  unfortunate 
Viola  was  finally  ensnared.  She  dreamed  of  no 
wrong.  Markley  told  her  it  was  a  common  prac- 
tice in  America  to  observe  secret  weddings  in  such 
cases  as  theirs. 

She  began  to  doubt  him  for  the  first  time  when 
she  found  he  did  not  keep  his  word  about  making 
the  wedding  public  in  a  few  weeks,  as  he  had 
promised.  Slowly  it  dawned  upon  her  mind  that 
Frederick  Markley  was  not  the  Christian  man  he 
professed  himself  to  be  and  which  she  had 
imagined  he  was.  But  she  had  no  doubt  of  the 
legality  of  her  marriage  to  him.  She  was  insisting 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  279 

on  him  keeping  his  promise  about  making  the  wed- 
ding public  the  evening  that  Dr.  Anning  heard 
them  talking  in  the  church. 

"She  was  a  guileless,  innocent  child,"  said  her 
cruel  betrayer,  as  he  confessed  to  Allan.  "She 
never  dreamed  of  wrong.  Sin  was  impossible  to 
her.  But  I  was  blinded  and  maddened.  I  wanted 
to  get  rid  of  her.  When  we  met  at  the  railroad 
'bend'  I  told  her  our  marriage  was  a  mock  mar- 
riage, but  she  refused  to  believe  it.  'In  the  sight  of 
God,  Frederick,'  she  sobbed  to  me,  'I  am  your 
wife.' 

"She  insisted  on  telling  Dr.  Anning  the  whole 
truth  about  our  relations.  I  was  desperate  and  I 
shot  her.  I  did  it  with  her  father's  gun,  which  I' 
had  borrowed  from  her  some  time  previous  on 
pretense  that  I  wanted  to  see  what  Bohemian  fire- 
arms were  like.  Life  has  been  a  hell  to  me  ever 
since.  Her  last  words  have  rung  in  my  ears  night 
and  day.  She  said,  'Frederick,  I  forgive  you.' " 

Allan  Rutledge  looked  steadfastly  at  the  wretch- 
ed man  before  him,  as  he  told  the  story  of  his  black 
life  and  awful  crime.  His  dark  eyes  gleamed  in 
fury  as  the  hideous  tragedy  of  ungoverned  passion 
showed  him  the  awful  depths  to  which  a  man  can 
fall,  but  not  a  word  passed  his  lips. 

"I  swear  to  God,"  continued  young  Markley, 
quailing  again  under  the  steady  glance  of  the 
minister's  piercing  eyes,  "I  swear  to  God  I  was  not 
responsible.  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  doing." 

"Frederick  Markley,"  said  the  minister  slowly, 
and  his  voice  sounded  hollow  and  strange,  "you 
are  guilty  of  crimes  I  had  not  believed  to  be  pos- 


280  THE   VICTORY  OF 

sible,  but  I  am  not  your  judge.  There  is  only  one 
thing  for  you  to  do.  Go  to  our  county  attorney 
and  confess  fully  your  crime  to  him,  and  give  your- 
self up  to  justice,  and  may  God  have  mercy  on 
your  soul." 

"I  cannot  face  it!  Save  me,  Mr.  Rutledge!" 
pleaded  the  son  of  Elder  Markley. 

"I  cannot  save  you.  You  must  surrender  to  jus- 
tice. If  you  do  not  confess  yourself,  I  must  tell 
the  officers." 

"Have  mercy!  have  mercy!  Think  of  my  father 
and  mother,  and  my  sister,  Grace.  Can  I  not  be- 
gin life  again  somewhere  else?" 

His  abject  helplessness  appealed  to  Allan  Rut- 
ledge  more  than  his  words. 

"I  would  help  you  if  I  could,"  responded  the 
minister.  "I  do  not  forget  your  sister  or  your 
family,  but  I  also  remember  Viola  Antol  and  her 
family.  I  remember  my  duty  as  a  man  and  as  a 
citizen.  I  remember  the  law  of  God.  You  must 
deliver  yourself  over  to  the  authorities." 

"I  cannot!"  moaned  the  wretched  man.  "I  will 
go  anywhere,  but  I  cannot  endure  a  trial  for  Viola 
Antol's  murder!" 

"You  must!"  said  Allan  Rutledge  gravely  but 
decidedly.  "I  will  wait  until  to-morrow  noon.  If 
you  have  not  confessed  your  crime  then  to  the 
officers,  I  shall  lay  this  evidence  before  them,"  and 
he  held  up  the  postal-card  and  the  note  which 
Frank  Antol  had  given  him. 

Frederick  Markley  shuddered,  but  made  no 
reply.  Deep  down  in  his  heart  the  minister  had 
a  great  pity  for  the  unfortunate  young  man.  Like 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  281 

Tito  Melema,  in  the  story  of  "Romola,"  Frederick 
Markley  had  gone  down  step  by  step  until  he  had 
reached  the  lowest  rung  on  the  ladder  of  degrada- 
tion and  wickedness,  yet  he  had  begun  his  down- 
ward career  wholly  unconscious  of  its  end.  All 
he  had  desired  was  a  pleasant  time,  and  by  simply 
living  for  pleasure  he  had  made  his  life  a  horrible 
and  almost  unbelievable  wreck,  and  had  brought 
agony  and  torture  to  his  nearest  friends. 

"Though  I  abhor  your  crime,"  said  the  minister, 
"I  am  sincerely  sorry  for  you.  You  will  find  me 
your  true  friend.  Make  your  peace  with  man  by 
submitting  to  justice,  and  get  right  with  God  by 
giving  him  what  is  left  of  your  life.  Remain  here 
alone  for  a  while  and  think  it  all  over.  I  will  see 
you  again  to-morrow." 

And  Allan  Rutledge  passed  out,  leaving  Fred- 
erick Markley  alone  in  the  officers'  room  in  the 
church,  the  very  room  in  which  for  over  fifteen 
years  Elder  Markley  had  repressed  every  sincere 
effort  on  Dr.  Anning's  part  to  make  the  Wellington 
Church  a  real  place  of  prayer  and  worship. 
•  Justice  had  begun  to  demand  its  vengeance,  and 
all  Wellington  was  soon  shuddering  at  the  fearful 
price  men  must  pay  who  defy  the  laws  of  God  and 
man. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
THE  WAGES  OF  SIN. 

When  Allan  Rutledge  left  the  church,  after  hear- 
ing young  Markley's  confession,  he  went  im- 
mediately to  the  Antol  cottage.  He  found  the  en- 
tire family  at  home,  sitting  in  stunned  silence. 
Frank  had  told  his  father  of  his  discovery  when 
he  returned  home  for  dinner  at  noon  and  Mr. 
Antol  did  not  go  back  to  the  factory. 

As  gently  as  he  could,  Allan  told  the  family  the 
whole  tragedy  of  their  daughter's  life.  He  repeat- 
ed, almost  word  for  word,  Frederick  Markley's 
confession,  including  even  Viola's  last  words. 

Amid  her  tears  Mrs.  Antol  told  of  her  unshaken 
confidence  in  Viola  and  of  her  full  assurance  of 
her  entire  innocence  of  crime.  "She  was  an  angel, 
Mr.  Rutledge.  I  wish  you  could  have  met  her. 

She  never  dreamed  of  evil.  She  used  to  sing " 

But  the  mother's  emotion  overpowered  her,  and 
Allan  said  tenderly:  "She  awaits  you  in  the  better 
world,  where  all  earth's  sorrows  are  healed." 

Allan  left  them  with  the  assurance  that  Viola's 
honor  would  be  publicly  vindicated  and  her  wrongs 
requited  by  law. 

That  night  he  could  not  sleep.  Until  long  after 
midnight  he  sat  in  his  study  reflecting  over  the 

282 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  283 

developments  of  that  awful  day.  The  bitterest 
thought  of  all  was  that  Wellington  Church  was, 
in  a  measure,  responsible  for  the  tragedy.  That 
the  Church  of  God  should  thus  be  used  in  doing 
the  work  of  hell  was  a  fearful  blow  to  his  own 
faith. 

Frederick  Markley  was  the  son  of  the  leading 
officer  in  the  church.  He  was  a  highly  educated, 
cultured  and  wealthy  young  American.  As  the 
director  of  the  church  choir,  and  the  leader  ot  tlie 
young  people  in  the  church,  it  was  no  wonder  that 
Viola  was  deceived.  To  her  he  was,  at  first,  the 
embodiment  of  all  that  was  best  and  most  attrac- 
tive in  American  life.  His  attentions  to  her  flat- 
tered the  maiden's  heart  and  won  her  entire  con- 
fidence. 

Then  the  villian  had  unmasked  himself.  As 
Allan  thought  of  young  Markley,  a  supposed  rep- 
resentative of  the  highest  development  of  Ameri- 
can civilization  and  Christianity,  ensnaring,  betray- 
ing and  murdering  the  pure-minded,  innocent,  for- 
eign girl,  everything  that  was  manly  and  noble  in 
his  nature  roused  him  to  a  passion  of  indignation. 

"Think  of  it!"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  as  he  arose 
and  paced  around  his  study.  "Is  Frederick  Mark- 
ley  the  final  product  of  our  boasted  land  of  liberty? 
Does  American  success  mean  such  renegades  as 
this  devil-possessed  man  proves  himself  to  be?  If 
so,  I  hate  American  civilization;  I  hate  American 
Christianity.  I  prefer  the  savage  wildness  of  the 
ignorant  Hottentot  to  such  hypocrisy  and  base- 
ness." 

Then  the  thought  of  Grace  Markley,  Frederick's 


284  THE   VICTORY  OF 

sister,  came  to  his  mind.  What  a  contrast!  A 
light  broke  over  his  face. 

"I  see  it!"  at  last  he  exclaimed  aloud.  "Grace 
Markley,  not  her  hapless  brother,  represents 
American  civilization  and  American  Christianity. 
Frederick  reverted  to  the  savage  type.  He  stands 
not  for  the  ripe,  but  for  the  rotten  fruit  of  our  in- 
stitutions. I  must  not  blame  the  sins  of  this 
modern  Judas  on  our  Christian  churches." 

"Joseph  Cook,  of  Boston,  was  right,"  he  went 
on,  speaking  aloud  to  himself,  and  finding  a  relief 
in  utterance.  "The  curse  of  American  Christianity 
to-day  is  the  'unhung  Judas.'  The  base  hypocrite 
betrays  his  Lord  to-day  and  then  keeps  on  in  lead- 
ership in  the  Church.  Judas  Iscariot  was  manly 
enough  to  hang  himself,  and  honest,  God-fearing 
men,  like  Peter  and  John,  were  the  early  leaders  of 
the  Christian  Church,  but  in  America  oftentimes 
some  'unhung  Judas'  lords  it  over  the  Christian 
people,  and  brings  disgrace  and  shame  on  the  en- 
tire Church." 

Then,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  he  exclaimed : 
"What  a  blessing  to  the  kingdom  of  Christ  in 
America  to-day  if  every  Judas  would  follow  the 
example  of  Iscariot  and  go  and  hang  himself.  The 
curse  and  pollution  and  weakness  of  our  American 
church  life  would  be  at  once  removed." 

It  was  almost  morning  when,  utterly  worn  out 
with  such  disquieting  and  strange  reasonings  in 
his  soul,  the  Wellington  minister  sought  repose. 
But  even  in  his  sleep  the  tragic  occurrences  of  the 
previous  day  pursued  him.  He  dreamed  he  was  in 
a  ship,  lost  in  a  fog,  on  a  stormy  sea.  Suddenly  a 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  265 

clanging  of  bells  was  heard  telling  of  the  fatal 
rocks  close  at  hand,  and  before  the  course  of  the 
ship  could  be  changed  there  was  a  crash. 

He  awoke  with  a  start.  The  telephone  bell  was 
ringing  loudly  in  the  study.  It  rang  again  louder 
than  ever.  He  arose  as  quickly  as  he  could  and 
partially  dressed  himself.  A  sudden  fear  clutched 
his  heart  as  he  took  down  the  receiver  of  the 
telephone. 

"This  is  Grace  Markley,"  said  a  trembling  voice. 
"Come  to  our  house,  quickly!" 

That  was  all.  Allan  looked  at  his  watch.  It 
was  just  six  o'clock.  Day  was  beginning  to  break. 
Hastily  finishing  his  dressing,  he  ran  through  the 
deserted  streets  to  the  Markley  mansion.  At  the 
door  Grace  met  him,  and  her  face  told  the  story. 
Wellington  had  another  tragedy. 

"Frederick  is  dead!"  was  all  she  could  say,  and 
she  led  the  way  upstairs  to  the  young  man's  room. 

There  on  the  bed,  on  the  top  of  the  undisturbed 
bedclothes,  lay  the  dead  body  of  Frederick  Mark- 
ley.  His  life-blood,  flowing  from  an  awful  wound 
in  his  head,  had  stained  with  its  crimson  red  the 
snow-white  bedspread.  He  was  dressed  exactly 
as  when  Allan  had  seen  him  last.  Elder  Markley 
was  sitting,  as  in  a  stupor,  on  a  chair  by  the  side 
of  the  bed.  Mrs.  Markley  was  weeping  hysteri- 
cally as  she  hung  helplessly  over  the  brass  rail  at 
the  foot. 

Ob  Allan  looked  around  he  saw  a  paper  on  the 
dressing  table  in  front  of  the  looking-glass.  It 
proved  to  be  the  suicide's  confession.  Four  words 
came  to  the  young  minister  as  the  full  meaning 


286  THE   VICTORY  OF 

of  the  tragic  scene  forced  itself  into,  his  mind.  As 
plainly  as  though  printed  in  large,  fiery  letters  he 
could  read  all  over  that  room  those  four  words.  He 
saw  them  in  the  crimson  life-blood,  staining  the 
bedclothes.  He  saw  them  in  the  blood-stained  face 
of  the  former  choir  leader  of  the  Wellington 
Church.  He  saw  them  on  the  dressing  table, 
where  young  Markley's  confession  of  sin  lay.  Over 
the  pictures  of  the  actresses  which  hung  on  the 
walls,  on  the  floor,  on  the  ceiling,  Allan  read  every- 
where— "The  wages  of  sin." 

"Oh,  Frederick,  my  son,  my  son!  Would  God  I 
had  died  for  you !  Oh,  Frederick,  my  son,  my  son !" 

Elder  Markley's  voice  rose  in  a  wail  of  despair 
as  he  uttered  these  words.  The  old  heart-sob  of 
David,  the  hapless  father  of  Absalom,  has  been 
wrung  from  many  a  parent's  lips  since  the  time 
that  the  broken-hearted  poet-king  gave  way  to  his 
natural  grief. 

At  the  sound  of  her  husband's  cry,  Mrs.  Markley 
screamed,  and  fell  in  a  swoon  over  the  foot  of  the 
bed.  Grace  Markley  threw  herself  across  the  life- 
less body  of  her  brother  in  an  agony  of  grief. 

Allan  Rutledge  awoke  out  of  his  stunned  help- 
lessness. Servants  were  at  the  door  and  he  mo- 
tioned them  to  enter.  With  their  help  Mrs.  Mark- 
ley  was  carried  into  an  adjoining  room.  Dr.  Lucas, 
who  arrived  just  as  they  were  carrying  her  out  of 
her  son's  room,  gave  one  glance  at  Frederick, 
touched  his  cold  hand,  and  then  followed  Mrs. 
Markley,  applying  restoratives.  The  sister  was 
also  gently  removed,  and  Mr.  Markley,  walking  like 
a  man  in  a  dream,  was  helped  downstairs. 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  287 

"He  has  been  dead  six  hours  at  least,"  said  Dr. 
Lucas  to  Allan.  "Death  was  instantaneous.  Is  it 
not  strange  and  terrible?" 

"Terrible,  but  not  strange,  Dr.  Lucas,"  answered 
the  minister.  "Poor  Frederick  sewed  to  the  wind, 
and  he  has  reaped  the  whirlwind."  As 'he  spoke, 
Allan  pointed  to  the  dead  man's  written  confession, 
which  lay  on  the  dressing  table.  The  doctor 
glanced  it  over  and  replied:  "I  saw  the  poor  fellow 
go  down  the  railroad  track  to  the  fatal  bend  just 
about  dusk  yesterday." 

At  the  inquest  the  full  facts  of  the  tragedy  came 
out.  The  honor  of  Viola  Antol  was  vindicated, 
but  all  Wellington  shuddered  as  they  learned 
young  Markley's  story. 

After  Allan  had  left  the  young  murderer  at  the 
church,  Frederick  Markley  remained  there  alone 
for  fully  two  hours.  Then  he  went  home,  but 
spoke  to  no  one,  going  to  his  own  room.  It  was 
at  this  time  he  wrote  out  the  confession  he  had 
left  behind  him.  About  dusk  he  went  out  again 
and  went  down  the  railroad  tracks,  evidently  visit- 
ing again  the  place  where  Viola  had  met  her  fate. 
He  came  back  home  after  all  had  retired  for  the 
night,  but  as  the  family  was  used  to  his  irregular 
habits,  no  one  thought  anything  about  it.  He  had 
fired  the  fatal  shot  about  midnight,  launching  his 
crimson-stained  soul '  into  eternity  in  a  moment. 
No  one  heard  the  pistol  discharged  and  the  terrible 
dee<J>  was  discovered  first  by  Grace  Markley. 

Roused  from  sleep  by  a  hideous  dream  in  the 
early  morn,  she  felt  a  feeling  of  alarm  in  her  heart 
for  her  brother.  Not  knowing  whether  he  had 


288  THE   VICTORY  OF, 

returned  home  the  previous  night  or  not,  she 
dressed  herself  and  knocked  at  his  door.  There 
was  no  response.  After  a  still  louder  knock,  she 
walked  in  and  there  saw  the  tragedy.  She  at  once 
roused  the  household  and  telephoned  to  Mr.  Rut- 
ledge  and  the  doctor. 

The  funeral  of  the  young  suicide  was  the  saddest 
service  that  Allan  Rutledge  ever  attended.  The 
new  president  of  the  college,  Dr.  Shepherd,  assist- 
ed the  minister.  Only  the  immediate  friends  of 
the  family  were  present.  Elder  Markley,  still  stun- 
ned and  helpless,  did  not  seem  to  realize  the  cir- 
cumstances. Mrs.  Markley  was  completely  broken 
in  her  grief.  Poor  Grace  fainted  dead  away  while 
the  brief  obituary  was  being  read.  As  tenderly 
as  they  could  both  the  minister  and  the  college 
president  commended  the  stricken  family  to  the 
loving  care  of  the  heavenly  Father,  who  "numbers 
even  the  hairs  of  our  head,"  and  who  is  "afflicted 
in  all  our  afflictions."  Allan  gave  a  brief  talk  from 
the  words:  "What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now, 
but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." 

Thus,  in  a  suicide's  grave,  with  the  shadow  of 
crime  and  the  stain  of  sin  on  his  memory,  the  son 
of  the  leading  elder  in  the  Wellington  Church  was 
laid  away  to  await  the  resurrection  of  the  just  and 
unjust. 

No  son  could  have  shown  more  tender  attention 
to  the  stricken  parents  than  Allan  Rutledge  did 
during  the  following  weeks.  He  called  at  the 
Markley  mansion  almost  daily.  The  entire  family 
was  prostrated  and  entirely  unnerved  by  the 
tragedy.  The  first  to  recover  herself  was  Grace, 


'ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  289 

whose  Christian  faith  soon  enabled  her  to  bow 
before  the  providence  of  God,  saying:  "Not  my 
will  but  thine  be  done."  Allan  thought  at  first  that 
[Elder  Markley  would  not  survive  the  shock.  But 
time,  the  healer  of  so  many  wounds,  gradually 
wrought  its  therapeutic  wonders  in  the  case  ot 
this  stricken  father.  The  young  minister  soon  dis- 
covered, as  Elder  Markley  began  to  rally,  that  he 
was  a  changed  man.  His  entire  outlook  on  life  had 
altered.  The  old,  greedy,  selfish,  covetous  spirit 
was  gone.  To  Allan's  amazement  and  delight. 
Elder  Markley  grew  more  and  more  like  his  daugh- 
ter, Grace.  She  was  now  his  constant  companion 
and  his  chief  support.  There  was  one  result  of 
young  Markley's  tragic  end  for  which  Wellington 
was  thankful.  A  few  days  after  the  funeral  Allan 
called  on  the  county  attorney,  Clarkson  Maynard. 
Mr.  Maynard  was  one  of  the  rising  young  poli- 
ticians of  the  district,  a  brilliant  lawyer  and  a  sin- 
cere Christian  man.  He  was  a  loyal  and  warm 
personal  friend  of  Allan  Rutledge,  and  through  the 
college  trouble  Allan  had  no  more  ardent  supporter 
than  Clarkson  Maynard. 

"Mr.  Maynard/  said  the  minister  to  the  attorney, 
as  he  showed  him  young  Markley's  confession, 
"you  will  see  there  a  most  serious  charge  against 
[Jamison  White.  What  ought  to  be  done  about  it?" 

The  county  attorney  at  once  read  the  confession 
carefully,  and  then  responded:  "I  shall  proceed  at 
on§e  to  investigate.  I  have  wondered  where  that 
fellow,  White,  got  his  money  lately.  He  is  a  dis- 
grace to  the  legal  profession,  as  all  the  members 
of  the  Wellington  Bar  have  felt  for  some  time." 


290  THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

But  Jamison  White  keard  in  some  way  that  the 
officers  of  justice  were  on  his  trail,  and  the  next 
day  he  left  Wellington  for  good.  He  was  never 
heard  of  again.  "A  good  riddance !"  was  the  uni- 
versal comment  when  his  disappearance  became 
known  to  the  public,  and  if  he  is  hereafter  ever 
found,  there  may  be  legal  proceedings  in  his  case 
that  will  greatly  interest  the  public,  and  which 
without  doubt,  will  land  the  unprincipled  young 
lawyer  remorselessly  in  a  convict's  cell. 

It  was  several  months  after  this  that  Grace 
Markley  telephoned  one  day  to  Allan  Rutledge, 
saying  that  her  father  wanted  to  see  him  on  some 
important  business  matter.  The  young  minister 
at  once  started  for  the  Markley  home,  and  found 
Elder  Markley  in  a  better  state  of  mind  than  he 
had  ever  seen  him  before.  He  was  almost  cheerful 
and  happy  in  his  cordial  greetings.  As  Elder 
Markley  went  on  to  speak  of  the  business  matter 
on  which  he  wished  to  consult  with  Allan,  the 
young  minister  was  astonished,  and  ever  afterward 
he  saw  in  this  interview  a  new  proof  that  nothing 
is  impossible  with  God,  and  that  even  in  such  ter- 
rible calamities  for  those  who  believe  in  Him,  it 
will  be  found  at  last  that  the  Scriptures  are  true, 
and  that  "all  things  work  together  for  good." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
BROKEN-HEARTED  AND  PENITENT. 

"I  say,  Pat,  why  are  you  in  such  a  hurry  with 
that  job?  You  remind  me  of  a  candidate  running 
for  a  county  office." 

Foreman  McGregor  smiled  as  he  addressed  Pat? 
McGinnis  one  day  in  this  way  in  the  paint  shop 
of  the  Markley  factory.  The  Irishman  was  paint- 
ing a  large  wheel,  and  he  was  making  the  brush 
fly  wildly  over  the  spokes,  his  arm  working  like 
the  piston  rod  of  an  engine. 

"Faith,  now,"  he  replied,  "I  have  this  big  wheel 
to  paint,  and  only  a  drap  o'  paint  in  me  bucket  and 
I'm  hurrin'  up  to  get  through  before  the  paint 
gives  out." 

"Veil,  veil,  he  iss  an  Irishman,  sure  ting,"  ejacu- 
lated Jake  Borner,  the  little  Dutchman  as  all  the 
men  in  the  paint  shop  roared  with  laughter. 

"I  say,  Pat,"  went  on  McGregor,  "would  you 
work  as  hard  as  that  if  you  were  working  for  your- 
self?" 

"Begorra,  I  don't  know,  but  when  I  work  for 
meself  at  meal  time  I  always  work  pretty  hard." 

"Well,  the  boss  is  going  to  have  us  work  for 
ourselves  after  this,"  said  McGregor. 

"What's  that?"  asked  the  men  questioningly, 
stopping  in  their  work  and  looking  at  the  foreman. 

291 


292  THE   VICTORY  OF 

Mr.  Antol  was  presiding  at  the  dipping  vat  that 
morning,  and  he  stopped  his  work  in  astonishment, 
holding  a  bundle  of  irons,  dripping  with  paint,  in 
his  hands. 

"Yes,  he  wants  us  all  to  meet  him  to-day  at  half- 
past  twelve  in  the  shipping  room,  and  he  is  going 
to  set  us  all  working  for  ourselves." 

"What  does  the  boss  mean  by  that?"  asked 
McGinnis. 

Just  then  the  noon  whistle  blew,  and  the  fore- 
man said,  "Come  back  promptly  at  12 130  and  you 
will  hear  all  about  it." 

The  men  departed  for  the  midday  meal,  wonder- 
ing what  was  going  to  happen. 

This  meeting  of  Markley's  workmen,  which  was 
called  at  the  noon  hour  that  day  was  the  final  re- 
sult of  the  conferences  which  Allan  Rutledge  had 
with  Elder  Markley.  On  that  occasion  when  Allan 
had  taken  his  seat,  after  the  cordial  greetings  by 
the  factory  owner,  the  minister  was  amazed  to  hear 
him  say,  "Mr.  Rutledge,  I  have  asked  you  here  to 
consult  with  you  about  putting  my  factory  on  a 
Christian  basis." 

"Yes,  sir,"  continued  Elder  Markley.  "Since  I 
have  begun  to  recover  from  the  shock  of  my  son's 
death,  my  dear  daughter,  Grace,  has  been  devoting 
herself  to  me,  and  she  has  read  over  to  me  the  four 
Gospels  in  our  New  Testament.  I  never  knew 
before  what  Christianity  was.  I  begin  to  see  that 
your  preaching  is  exactly  the  preaching  the  New 
Testament  demands  of  every  honest  minister." 

"I  feel  to-day  like  Zacchaeus  when  Jesus  came 


293 

into  his  home  and  said,  'This  day  hath  salvation 
come  to  thine  house'  "  went  on  Mr.  Markley,  to 
the  astonished  minister,  "and  I  feel  like  saying,  as 
Zacchaeus  did,  'Behold,  Lord,  the  half  of  my 
goods  I  give  to  the  poor.' " 

"I  rejoice  with  you  that  you  have  found  Jesus 
Christ,"  said  Allan  earnestly.  "He  always  brings 
salvation." 

After  a  pause,  Elder  Markley  went  on  to  state 
that  he  desired  to  make  some  more  adequate  and 
just  division  of  the  profits  of  his  factory. 

"I  see  clearly,"  said  the  penitent  employer,  "that 
I  have  kept  all  the  cream  to  myself,  and  given  my 
men  nothing  but  skimmed  milk.  I  want  you  to 
help  me  work  out  some  plan  that  will  do  justice 
to  my  workmen." 

Allan  was  delighted.  He  saw  the  factory  owner's 
problem,  and  he  was  prepared  to  help  him  intelli- 
gently. He  had  been  reading  some  articles  by 
Andrew  Carnegie  on  "Labor  and  Capital,"  and  he 
had  been  impressed  with  the  arguments  of  this  suc- 
cessful Scotchman  on  behalf  of  co-partnership  be- 
tween employers  and  employees.  The  plan  ap- 
pealed to  Allan's  sense  of  justice,  and  he  knew 
that  Mr.  Carnegie  was  a  successful  man  of  affairs. 

"Turn  your  business  into  a  stock  company,  he 
explained  to  Mr.  Markley,  "and  give  some  of  the 
stock  to  each  of  your  men.  This  makes  them 
partners  with  you,  and  you  all  share  equally  in  the 
profits  of  the  business.  Besides  making  a  just 
division  of  the  profits  possible,  such  an  arrange- 
ment will  make  each  of  your  men  proudly  con- 
scious that  he  is  working  in  his  own  factory.  It 


294  THE  VICTORY  OF 

will  mean  new  life  to  your  employees  and  will  be 
an  object  lesson  to  the  business  world." 

As  Allan  had  studied  this  entire  question,  he  was 
able  to  refer  to  other  business  men  who  had 
adopted  this  plan,  and  who  found  that  it  worked 
successfully.  Elder  Markley  was  interested  and 
agreed  to  work  out  some  such  scheme.  Accord- 
ingly, after  taking  the  necessary  legal  steps,  he 
had  organized  a  stock  company  to  own  and  operate 
his  factory,  and  he  arranged  to  distribute  part  of 
the  stock  among  his  old  employees. 

In  order  to  make  requittal,  in  some  way,  to  Mr. 
Frisbie  and  Frank  Antol  for  the  injury  done  to 
them  by  his  hapless  son,  Mr.  Markley  decided  to 
divide  a  certain  per  cent,  of  the  stock  between 
them,  making  Mr.  Frisbie  the  general  manager  of 
the  factory  and  Frank  Antol  the  assistant  manager. 
In  spite  of  his  youth  Frank  had  shown  himself  a 
remarkably  capable  young  business  man.  He  re- 
tained a  just  share  of  the  stock  for  himself  and 
his  family. 

The  balance  of  the  stock  Mr.  Markley  decided 
to  distribute  among  the  men,  giving  several  shares 
to  each  employee.  The  noon-day  meeting,  of 
which  Foreman  McGregor  spoke,  was  the  occasion 
on  which  Elder  Markley  was  to  distribute  the 
shares  of  stock  among  the  men.  There  had  been 
a  previous  conference  with  the  foremen,  but  the 
men  knew  nothing  of  these  proposed  changes. 

There  'was  a  feeling  of  anxiety  on  the  part  of 
the  men.  Most  of  them  thought  that  the  factory 
was  to  be  shut  down  on  account  of  Mr.  Markley's 
ill  health.  At  12:30  all  were  gathered  in  the  ship- 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  295 

ping-  room.  Elder  Markley,  looking  old  and  feeble, 
appeared,  leaning  heavily  on  Allan  Rutledge's  arm. 

The  minister  called  the  meeting  together  and 
made  a  short  introductory  speech.  He  said  that 
Mr.  Markley  had  something  to  say  which  he  knew 
would  please  them  all  very  much.  The  factory 
owner  arose  to  speak.  He  looked  over  the  sea  of 
eager  faces  and  a  tear  glistened  in  his  eyes. 

"'My  brothers,"  he  said  at  last  to  the  amazed 
workmen,  "I  am  not  a  speaker.  I  cannot  give  you 
any  address,  but  I  want  to  thank  you  all  for  your 
good  work  in  the  factory,  especially  during  the 
past  year.  Times  are  good.  The  factory  is  paying 
better  than  ever,  and  I  want  to  take  in  some  part- 
ners. I  have  arranged  to  take  you  all  in  as  part- 
ners with  me  and  the  foremen  will  now  distribute 
to  you  shares  of  stock  in  the  Wellington  Manufac- 
turing Company.  There  are  five  shares  of  stock 
for  each  of  you.  This  company  will  own  and 
operate  the  factory.  Mr.  Frisbie  is  the  general 
manager  and  Frank  Antol  is  his  assistant." 

The  men  were  too  dazed  to  say  a  word,  and  the 
different  foremen  began  to  hand  out  the  stock  cer- 
tificates, which  had  all  been  previously  prepared. 
Allan  arose  in  the  tense  silence,  which  was  only 
broken  by  the  rustling  of  the  certificates  as  they 
were  being  handed  out.  The  minister  held  a  cer- 
tificate of  stock  in  his  own  hand. 

"Fellow-partners  in  the  Wellington  Manufactur- 
ing Company,  he  began,  "our  kind  benefactor,  Mr. 
Markley,  has  asked  me  to  accept  a  few  shares  of 
stock  along  with  you.  I  am  sure  you  all  appreciate 
this  act  of  his  in  making  you  fellow-owners  with 


296  THE   VICTORY  OF 

him  of  this  splendid  factory.  Henceforth  you  will 
work  for  yourselves,  as  you  will  all  own  the  factory 
together.  Mr.  Markley  has  turned  part  of  the 
stock  over  to  you.  I  trust  that  your  diligent  atten- 
tion to  business  will  show  to  Mr.  Markley  and  to 
the  community  that  you  are  a  company  of  men  who 
can  be  trusted  with  the  ownership  of  property." 

The  men  now  began  slowly  to  realize  their  good 
fortune.  Mr.  Steen  jumped  up  and  shouted,  "Three 
cheers  for  our  boss,  Mr.  Markley!"  He  led  them  in 
the  English  cheer,  and  three  tremendous  "Hip-hip- 
hurrahs  !"  rent  the  air. 

Foreman  McGregor  then  arose  on  behalf  of  the 
men  and  thanked  Mr.  Markley  for  his  generous 
action.  "This  means  a  new  epoch  in  the  life  of 
every  employee  in  this  factory,"  he  exclaimed. 
"We  are  no  longer  'hands.'  We  are  men,  and  I 
feel  sure  we  will  be  able  to  show  ourselves  to  be 
men,  and  capable  of  owning  capital,  just  as  our 
fathers  proved  themselves  to  be  capable  of  enjoy- 
ing liberty.  We  have  long  had  democracy  in  poli- 
tics. Industrial  democracy  is  now  a  fact  in  Wel- 
lington and  Mr.  Markley  will  long  be  remembered 
as  the  man  who  made  this  possible." 

When  McGregor  ceased  there  was  wild  applause 
from  the  men,  showing  he  had  accurately  voiced 
their  sentiments. 

Tears  were  flowing  down  the  cheeks  of  Elder 
Markley  as  he  arose  again.  "I  am  not  entitled  to 
any  thanks,  my  friends,"  he  said  simply.  "I  have 
lately  seen  what  a  failure  my  whole  life  has  been. 
I  lived  only  for  myself,  but,  as  you  all  know,  a 
terrible  calamity  has  overtaken  me  and " 


'ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

Here  Mr.  Markley  was  compelled  to  pause,  his 
emotion  being  too  great  to  allow  him  to  continue. 
There  was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  crowd.  Poor  Mr. 
Antol  bowed  himself  in  his  grief,  and  the  fountain 
of  his  own  tears  was  opened. 

"I  am  learning  now  from  our  great  Teacher 
how  to  live,"  he  went  on,  as  soon  as  he  could 
recover  his  speech.  "If  what  I  have  done  has  en- 
couraged any  of  you,  the  thanks  are  due  to  our 
Saviour.  May  God  bless  you  all." 

The  strange  meeting  was  over.  Every  man 
came  forward  to  grasp  Mr.  Markley's  hand.  It 
was  a  new  experience  with  the  factory  owner,  and 
he  was  astonished  at  the  joy  he  found  in  his  heart, 
as  these  horny-fisted  men  of  toil  greeted  him,  one 
after  the  other,  with  a  warm  handshake.  He  had 
at  last  "learned  the  luxury  of  doing  good."  All 
that  afternoon  the  foremen  were  busy  assuring  the 
men  that  the  stock  certificates  meant  a  partnership 
in  the  business  and  explaining  how  the  dividends 
on  the  stock  would  be  paid  semi-annually  out  of 
the  profits.  All  the  men  were  jubilant. 

When  Pat  McGinnis  went  home  that  night  his 
w?fe  thought  he  had  taken  leave  of  his  senses.  He 
kissed  his  wife's  rosy  cheek  and  bowed  before  her, 
saying:  "An'  how  is  me  lady  to-night?"  Then  he 
caught  up  the  baby  out  of  the  cradle  and  tossed 
the  little  fellow  in  the  air.  "Shure,  it's  the  son  of  a 
gintlemen  you  are!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  laid  the 
startled  baby  back  in  the  cradle  again.  "Sarah, 
rm  in  business  for  meself  now,"  at  last  he  ventured 
to  explain  to  his  wife,  who  was  losing  all  patience 
with  her  rollicking  spouse. 


298  THE   VICTORY  OF 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Pat,  at  all,  at  all  ?" 
she  exclaimed.  "Have  ye  lost  your  wits  entoire- 
ly?" 

Pat  drew  forth  his  stock  certificate,  and  showed 
it  proudly  to  his  better  half.  When  she  under- 
stood what  it  meant  she  was  overjoyed.  It  was 
not  the  actual  value  of  the  stock  certificate  that 
made  the  men  so  happy.  It  was  the  thought  that 
now,  in  a  measure,  they  were  the  fellow-owners  of 
the  factory. 

In  a  hundred  homes  in  Wellington  that  night 
there  was  thanksgiving  to  God,  and  a  new  sense 
of  independence,  and  a  fresh  joy  and  hope.  But 
Elder  Markley's  benevolence  was  not  exhausted  in 
his  gifts  of  stock  certificates  to  his  employees. 

At  a  called  meeting  of  the  officers  of  the  Welling- 
ton Church,  he  offered  to  present  to  the  congrega- 
tion a  new  pipe-organ,  and  to  put  in  a  much  needed 
gallery  in  the  church  building  at  his  own  expense. 
He  also  agreed,  if  the  church  would  build  a  suit- 
able residence  for  the  minister,  to  give  one-half  of 
the  amount  necessary.  An  arrangement  was  made 
at  once  to  accept  his  generous  offers. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  asked  Deacon  Stan- 
ford of  Allan  Rutledge,  as  they  walked  home  to- 
gether after  this  meeting. 

"It  means  that  Grace  Markley  has  led  her  father 
to  accept  the  teaching  of  the  New  Testament  in 
regard  to  property,"  responded  the  minister. 
"Sociological  problems  and  all  financial  difficulties 
in  the  Church  disappear  when  men  like  Markley 
become  real  Christians.  The  shock  of  his  son's 
death  broke  his  stubborn  will,  and  his  daughter  has 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE 

led  him  into  the  light.  He  is  a  new  man  alto- 
gether." 

"But  what's  the  use  of  building  a  fine  residence 
for  our  minister?"  said  the  deacon  a  little  later. 
"He  seems  determined  to  live  a  single  life.  Why; 
don't  you  get  married,  Mr.  Rutledge?" 

It  was  well  it  was  dark,  so  that  the  good  deacon 
did  not  see  the  look  of  pain  that  passed  over  the 
minister's  face  as  he  was  asked  this  question. 

"My  life  is  lonely,  I  admit,"  he  answered  gravely, 
"but  my  time  is  fully  occupied,  and  the  pleasures 
of  home  life  seem  to  be  denied  me.  I  am  trying  to 
devote  myself  entirely  to  my  life  mission." 

Yes,  Allan  Rutledge  was  honestly  trying  to  do 
this,  but  often  a  weariness  and  loneliness  over- 
came him,  and  his  thoughts  fled  across  the  sea,  in 
spite  of  all  he  could  do,  to  a  happy  tourist  party 
which  was  enjoying  the  delights  of  a  European 
trip.  Amid  his  splendid  success  and  remarkable 
ministry  in  Wellington  his  own  heart  was  still  un- 
cheered  and  he  often  bitterly  felt  that  he  had  been 
defeated  in  one  vital  instance  in  his  battles  with 
life.  Do  what  he  might  he  could  not  crush  out 
of  his  heart  the  longing  he  had  to  see  and  hear 
Mabel  Grayson  again. 

"Do  you  ever  hear  from  Mabel  ?"  he  asked  Grace 
Markley  one  day,  when  he  called  at  her  home  to 
see  her  father  and  found  Grace  alone.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  mentioned  Mabel  to  her  since 
that  day,  months  before,  when  she  had  spoken  to 
him  of  his  mission  in  life. 

"Not  very  regularly,"  she  replied.  "She  wrote 
me  a  beautiful  letter  when  she  first  heard  of  our 


300  THE   VICTORY  OF 

sorrow,  and  she  has  sent  me  a  few  postal  cards, 
but  she  has  not  written  much." 

"The  party  must  be  on  their  way  home  through 
Europe  now,"  said  Allan. 

"Yes,  I  think  they  are  now  in  England.  I  am 
going  to  take  a  long  journey  myself  after  a  while." 
And  Grace  Markley  blushed  shyly,  as  she  went  on: 
"I  was  wanting  to  see  you,  Mr.  Rutledge,  and  have 
a  talk  with  you.  Do  you  remember  Lester  Gray?" 

"Certainly,"  replied  Allan.  "I  remember  him 
well.  He  is  a  fine  fellow,  and  I  hear  he  is  a  Stu- 
dent Volunteer." 

"He  is  going  as  a  missionary  to  Korea  next  fall 

and ."  here  Grace  hesitated  a  moment  before 

she  went  on — "and  I  am  going  with  him.  Papa 
has  consented  and  he  is  going  to  undertake  Les- 
ter's support,  and  make  him  the  missionary  pastor 
of  the  Wellington  Church." 

"I  congratulate  you  most  sincerely,"  exclaimed 
the  minister.  "Yours  is  a  noble  lifework.  There 
is  nothing  grander  on  earth.  How  happy  both  of 
you  will  be!  What  are  your  father  and  mother 
going  to  do?" 

"They  will  accompany  us  to  Korea  and  see  our 
station  there,  and  then  they  plan  to  return  to 
America  and  live  in  California,  as  they  can  be 
nearer  to  us.  We  talked  it  all  over  last  night,  and 
both  papa  and  mamma  are  willing  that  I  should 
go  to  Korea  as  Lester's  wife.  We  have  been  en- 
gaged for  some  time,  but  I  did  not  tell  anyone  ex- 
cept mamma,  as  I  was  afraid  papa  would  never 
consent  to  my  becoming  a  missionary." 

"How   changed   your   father    is   in    everything/* 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  301 

remarked  the  minister.  "I  would  not  know  him  to 
be  the  same  man." 

"He  is  not  the  same  man,"  answered  Grace 
Markley  earnestly.  "He  died  when  Frederick  died, 
and  the  life  my  father  now  lives  is  a  different  life 
altogether."  • 

"We  can  all  see  it,"  responded  Allan.  "Why, 
here  comes  your  father  up  the  walk!"  he  added, 
looking  out  of  the  window. 

"I  wish  to  congratulate  you,  sir,"  said  Allan, 
after  the  cordial  greetings  were  over.  "Your 
daughter  has  been  telling  me  of  her  plans.  I  am 
delighted  to  know  of  her  noble  lifework.  Iowa  has 
given  several  of  her  most  accomplished  young* 
women  to  missionary  work  in  recent  years.  Grace 
tells  me  that  you  and  Mrs.  Markley  are  to  accom- 
pany them  out  to  Korea  when  they  sail." 

"Yes,"  replied  Elder  Markley.  "I  think  the  trip 
will  do  us  both  good.  Wellington  has  bitter 
memories  for  us,  and  we  think  if  we  take  an  ocean 
voyage  and  then  make  our  home  in  California,  per- 
haps we  can  in  part,  overcome  the  sorrow  that  has 
blighted  our  lives.  But  I  shall  not  cease  to  be  in- 
terested in  Wellington,"  he  added,  looking  earnest- 
ly at  Allan  Rutledge.  "I  owe  you  a  great  deal,  sir, 
and  I  want  you  to  allow  me  to  repay  you  some- 
what." 

"What  do  you  owe  me?"  asked  Allan  in  sur- 
prise. 

j*l  owe  you  more  than  I  can  ever  repay,"  he  re- 
plied, "but  I  want  you  to  accept  from  me  a  two 
months'  trip  to  Europe  as  a  holiday.  I  can  see 
that  the  awful  burden  of  recent  months  has  worn 


you  down.  You  need  a  good  rest.  I  have  arranged 
with  the  officers  of  the  church  to  have  President 
Shepherd  supply  the  pulpit  for  two  months  and 
you  can  take  a  much  needed  rest.  When  can  you 
start?" 

Mr.  Markley  would  take  no  refusal  and  the  ar- 
rangements for  Allan's  trip  to  Europe  were  soon 
completed.  In  two  weeks'  time  he  was  on  the  At- 
lantic Ocean,  bound  for  Queenstown,  as  he  desired 
to  spend  a  few  days  first  in  Ireland. 

On  this  voyage  of  five  days — for  the  ocean  liners 
leap  through  the  water  nowadays — the  young 
minister  of  Wellington  reviewed  his  battles  and 
victories. 

"Alas !"  he  sighed  one  day,  as  he  sat  on  the  deck, 
his  eyes  sweeping  the  billowy  deep,  "if  only  I 
could  succeed  as  Lester  Gray  has  succeeded.  But 
I  am  still  in  defeat.  My  external  enemies  have  all 
been  vanquished,  but  my  heart  is  bleeding  and 
broken,  and  my  case  seems  hopeless." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
AT  THE  LAKES  OF  KILLARNEY. 

Landing  at  Queenstown,  Ireland,  Allan  Rutledge 
spent  a  day  visiting  Cork  and  the  famous  Blarney 
Castle,  which  is  five  miles  from  Cork.  He  then 
proceeded  to  the  world-renowned  Lakes  of  Killar- 
ney. These  three  lovely  lakes  are  situated  in  the 
mountains  of  Kerry,  in  southern  Ireland,  and  make 
a  rare  panorama  of  scenic  beauty.  Arriving  at  the 
village  of  Killarney,  Allan  hired  an  Irish  jaunting 
car,  and  drove  around  the  magnificent  boulevards 
of  Kenmare  Park,  which  skirts  the  lakes.  In  the 
afternoon  he  decided  to  visit  the  island  of  Innis- 
fallen,  which  is  the  largest  of  the  sixty  islands 
which  float  in  the  charmed  Killarney  waters.  This 
island  has  been  called  "the  beautiful  miniature 
of  a  beautiful  country,"  and,  although  only 
twenty-one  acres  m  extent,  it  is  one  of  the 
most  delightful  spots  in  all  the  world.  The 
Irish  poet,  Thomas  Moore,  has  immortalized 
the  little  isle  in  his  song,  "Sweet  Innisfallen,  Fare 
Thee  Well."  As  his  boatman  rowed  alongside  of 
the  island,  Allan  heard  voices  and  knew  that  some 
otjjer  tourists  were  enjoying  themselves  on  the 
island.  Anxious  to  be  alone,  he  requested  the 
boatman  to  row  over  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 

303 


304  THE   VICTORY  OP. 

island,  and  there  he  landed  in  a  quiet,  shady  nook. 
The  boatman  sat  idly  in  his  little  craft,  and  Allan 
climbed  up  on  the  bank  and  walked  a  short  dis- 
tance into  the  interior  of  the  isle.  He  was  charmed 
with  its  sylvan  beauty.  The  day  was  perfect,  and 
the  blue  sky  above  rivaled  the  laughing  blue  waters 
of  the  lakes.  The  checkered  shade  of  the  trees 
made  a  scene  of  quiet  peacefulness  that  soothed 
the  restless  spirit  of  the  Wellington  minister.  As 
he  was  wandering  on  he  suddenly  stopped.  A  few 
steps  in  front  of  him,  seated  at  the  foot  of  a  large 
tree,  was  a  young  lady;  evidently  one  of  the  tour- 
ist party  who  had  strayed  away  to  enjoy  the  scen- 
ery alone.  She  was  seated  with  her  back  to  Allan, 
apparently  in  deep  meditation.  Allan  stepped  on 
a  twig  just  as  he  stopped,  and  there  was  a  snap 
as  it  broke  under  his  foot.  In  the  silence  it  sound- 
ed like  the  report  of  a  pistol.  The  young  lady 
hastily  turned  and  Allan  Rutledge  gave  a  shout: 
"Mabel  Grayson !"  he  cried,  leaping  forward. 
"Allan  Rutledge !"  she  exclaimed,  equally  aston- 
ished. 

"I  was  wondering  if  I  would  not  run  across  you 
in  Ireland,"  said  Allan,  after  the  first  greetings 
were  over.  Allan  had  noticed  the  sincere  joy  that 
his  presence  had  given  Mabel.  "Grace  told  me 
you  were  probably  in  Ireland  by  this  time." 

"Where  is  Grace?"  said  Mabel,  looking  around 
in  some  confusion. 

"Grace?"  echoed  Allan  in  amazement. 

"Yes,  is  not  Grace  with  you?" 

"Why,  no.  What  do  you  mean?  Why  should 
Grace  be  with  me?" 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  305 

"Why,  I  thought "  began  Mabel,  and  then 

she  stopped  in  confusion,  blushing  deeply. 

"Explain  yourself,"  said  Allan. 

"Did  you  come  away  and  leave  Grace?"  Mabel 
asked,  trying  to  appear  natural,  but  hardly  know- 
ing just  what  she  was  saying. 

"I  left  her  in  good  hands.  Lester  Gray  was  in 
[Wellington  when  I  bade  them  good-bye  about  a 
.week  ago." 

"Lester  Gray!     Who  is  he?" 

"Did  you  not  know  that  Grace  Markley  was 
engaged  to  Lester  Gray?  He  is  a  former  student 
of  Wellington  College,  and  a  fine  fellow.  They 
are  to  be  married  in  June,  and  they  sail  for  Korea 
as  missionaries  in  the  fall.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Markley 
.will  accompany  them." 

Mabel  Grayson  could  not  speak.  Her  eyes 
showed  her  amazement,  and  Allan  quietly  sat 
down  beside  her.  He  was  beginning  to  understand 
the  situation. 

"Did  you  think,"  he  said  at  last,  "that  Grace  was 
engaged  to  me?"  Still  Mabel  was  silent.  Her 
head  was  in  a  whirl. 

"Mabel,"  Allan  went  on,  encouraged  by  her 
blushes  and  confusion,  "I  think  that  I  am  begin- 
ning to  understand.  You  imagined  that  I  belonged 
to  Grace  Markley.  I  have  belonged  to  you,  and  to 
you  alone,  ever  since  that  graduation  day  in  Des 
Moines." 

^Mabel  Grayson  sat  looking  straight  before  her. 
She  seemed  in  a  kind  of  entrancing  dream. 

"Can  I  ever  hope" — Allan's  voice  was  low  and 
tender,  and  he  leaned  over  until  his  dark  locks  al- 


306  THE   VICTORY  OF 

most  mingled  with  the  golden  tresses  of  Judge 
Grayson's  daughter — "can  I  ever  hope  that  you 
will  belong  to  me?  I  love  you,  Mabel!" 

The  electric  spark  had  flashed.  The  two  separ- 
ate elements  were  apart  no  longer.  Boundary 
walls  were  broken  down  and  the  hearts  of  Allan 
Rutledge  and  Mabel  Grayson  flowed  together  like 
water.  After  the  first  fond  embrace  and  the  sacred 
kiss  that  sealed  their  relationship  as  lovers  forever- 
more,  Mabel  spoke :  "I  am  so  happy,  Allan.  I 
have  been  miserable  all  through  this  trip  because 
I  could  not  forget  you." 

"My  long,  long  life  dream  is  now  a  reality,"  re- 
sponded Allan,  "I  am  so  happy  that  I  am  afraid  I 
will  wake  up  and  find  it  was  only  a  dream." 

"If  the  rest  of  the  party  find  us,  you  will  soon 
find  out  it  is  no  dream,"  Mabel  answered,  looking 
around.  "I  must  join  them  again.  We  have  had 
an  interesting  trip,  but  I  shall  always  remember 
'sweet  Innisfallen'  as  the  happiest  spot  in  all 
Europe." 

"To  me  it  will  always  be  the  dearest  spot  on 
earth,"  responded  Allan,  as  he  arose  to  his  feet. 
"I  will  be  glad  to  see  your  father  again.  Do  you 
think  he  will  object  when  he  finds  out  what  we 
have  been  doing?" 

"No,  indeed!"  answered  Mabel.  "He  has  always 
admired  you,  and  he  would  prefer  to  see  me  a 
minister's  wife,  I  believe,  rather  than  see  me  the 
wife  of  the  President  of  the  United  States.  You 
know  yourself  how  highly  he  regards  the  ministers 
of  the  Gospel." 

"Your   father   is   a   man   and   a   Christian,"   said 


'CAN  I  EVER  HOPE  THAT  YOU  WII,!.  BELONG  TO  ME?  " 

—Page  307. 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  307 

Allan,  with  enthusiasm.  Even  as  they  were  speak- 
ing, Allan  and  Mabel  emerged  into  the  open  space 
around  the  ancient  ruins  of  Innisfallen  Abbey,  and 
Judge  Grayson  caught  sight  of  them.  He  rushed 
forward  at  once,  exclaiming:  "Why,  I  declare,  if 
here  isn't  Allan  Rutledge,  the  hero  of  Iowa!" 

Allan  hastened  to  explain  his  presence,  adding 
as  he  looked  meaningly  at  Mabel :  "I  think  I  can 
be  called  the  hero  of  Innisfallen  after  this." 

The  beautiful  daughter  of  the  Judge  blushed, 
and  coming  up  to  her  father,  she  put  her  arms 
around  his  neck.  The  Judge  knew  what  it  meant. 
"God  bless  you,  my  children,"  he  said  simply. 

Allan  Rutledge  felt  that  his  cup  of  happiness  was 
full  to  overflowing.  The  rest  of  the  party  gathered 
around  and  they  were  soon  all  introduced  to  the 
young  minister.  They  greeted  him  cordially,  with 
the  exception  of  one  young  man,  who  was  intro- 
duced as  "Walker  Weldman."  When  Judge  Gray- 
son  introduced  Allan  to  him  as  "Rev.  Allan  Rut- 
ledge,"  the  young  fellow  shook  hands  with  a 
patronizing  air  that  Allan  at  once  noticed.  Weld- 
man reminded  him  of  Frederick  Markley  and  he 
found  out  later  that  Weldman  was,  in  many  ways, 
a  kind  of  second  Frederick  Markley,  and  that  he 
had  been  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  to  Mabel  and  her 
father  during  the  trip.  He  was  the  son  of  wealthy 
parents,  of  unsettled  habits  and  principles,  skep- 
t^:al  and  agnostic  in  his  religious  beliefs. 

Mabel  afterward  told  Allan  that  her  father  and 
Weldman  had  had  many  warm  discussions  about 
Christianity,  and  that  her  father  was  disgusted 


308  THE   VICTORY  OF 

with  the  young  fellow's  sneering  references  to  min- 
isters and  the  Church  in  general. 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Allan.  "Such  men  need  our 
sympathy.  I  often  think  I  was  too  harsh  with 
Frederick  Markley.  I  took  him  too  seriously.  I 
could  tell  at  once,  when  I  met  him,  that  Walker 
Weldman  had  no  strength  of  character.  Unless  he 
is  converted,  some  such  fate  as  that  of  Frederick 
Markley  will  surely  overtake  him." 

"He  has  been  a  nuisance  to  me  all  the  trip,"  said 
Mabel.  "He  persisted  in  paying  attentions  to  me 
until  I  had  to  tell  him  plainly  that  his  presence  was 
annoying." 

Judge  Grayson  and  Allan  had  several  long  con- 
versations together.  The  Judge  was  very  much  in- 
terested in  the  change  that  had  come  over  the  life 
of  his  kinsman,  Elder  Markley. 

"Mr.  Markley  had  a  good  home  training  as  a 
boy,"  said  the  Judge.  "I  remember  well  his  old 
home  in  Pennsylvania.  But  all  his  life  until  now 
he  has  allowed  the  world  to  crowd  out  God,  and 
it  has  been  a  terrible  mistake.  He  has  paid  dearly 
for  his  error." 

With  the  sole  exception  of  Weldman,  the  whole 
party  was  delighted  with  the  addition  of  Allan 
Rutledge  to  the  tourist  party.  As  Allan  had 
previously  visited  Killarney,  he  was  able  to  point 
out  the  interesting  features  of  the  various  "sights" 
in  the  neighborhood.  The  day  after  Allan  joined 
the  party,  a  trip  was  made  to  Muckross  Abbey,  an 
old  ruin  which  dates  back  to  1440.  On  this  trip 
they  could  see  to  good  advantage  the  towering 
mountains  which  overshadow  the  lakes.  One  of 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  309 

these  mountains  has  a  flat  top,  and  it  attracted 
Mabel's  attention.  "What  a  peculiar  top  that 
mountain  has !"  she  exclaimed,  pointing  to  it. 

"That  is  the  Devil's  Punch  Bowl,"  responded 
Allan.  "It  formerly  was  a  volcano,  but  it  burned 
itself  out  long  ago.  There  is  now  a  deep  lake  of 
pure,  spring  water  in  the  crater,  and  they  pipe  this 
water  to  the  village  of  Killarney.  The  peak  is  over 
2,600  feet  high." 

After  exploring  Killarney  for  three  days,  the 
tourists  began  to  think  of  home. 

"This  finishes  our  trip,"  said  Judge  Grayson  to 
Allan,  "and  as  you  have  only  begun  your  tour  I 
expect  you  will  leave  us." 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Allan.  "I  am  well  satisfied 
with  my  trip  and  I  am  quite  ready  to  escort  you 
all  back  home  to  America  again.  I  have  enjoyed 
my  week's  travel  more  than  some  people  do  an 
entire  year  in  sightseeing." 

"I  think,"  said  her  father,  with  a  smile,  "some 
of  us  have  been  more  charmed  at  Killarney  than 
anywhere  else  in  Europe." 

Accordingly,  they  all  embarked  on  their  home- 
ward voyage  at  Queenstown.  About  this  voyage 
Allan's  only  regret  was  that  they  did  not  take  pas- 
sage on  a  slow-going  sailing  vessel,  so  that  it 
might  have  lasted  six  weeks  instead  of  six  days. 
Both  Mabel  and  Allan  were  good  sailors,  and  they 
sat  out  on  the  deck,  talking  together  and  planning 
for  the  future. 

"The  beautiful  and  commodious  residence  for  the 
minister  in  Wellington  will  be  completed  in 
August,"  said  Allan  one  day.  "I  can  have  it  fur- 


310  THE   VICTORY  OF 

nished  and  ready  for  its  queen  early  in  September. 
Will  that  be  too  soon?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  trying  to  hurry  me,"  replied 
Mabel,  with  a  smile.  "Had  we  not  better  wait 
until  midwinter?" 

"I  cannot  wait,"  he  replied.  "I  will  never  be 
able  to  settle  down  to  do  any  work  until  you  are 
with  me.  My  thoughts  will  be  wandering  to  Des 
Moines  in  spite  of  myself." 

And  so  it  was  all  arranged. 

There  was  one  unpleasant  incident  during  the 
voyage.  When  Walker  Weldman  found  out  that 
the  young  -minister  had  won  the  heart  of  the  fair 
Mabel  Grayson,  and  as  he  saw  her  devotion  to  him, 
he  was  furious,  and  several  times  came  very  near 
insulting  Allan  by  his  references  to  "fool  preachers." 

One  day  at  dinner  Allan  was  seated  opposite 
Weldman,  and  the  conversation  turned  on  the  Holy 
Land. 

"Most  of  the  sites  pointed  out  to  tourists  in 
Palestine  are  frauds,"  said  Weldman,  "but  that  is 
just  what  you  might  expect." 

"Why  should  we  expect  falsehood  in  the  land 
where  Christ  lived?"  asked  Allan  quietly. 

"Religion  is  mostly  fraud  everywhere,"  Weld- 
man answered,  with  a  sneer. 

"You  mistake,  sir,"  'responded  Allan  quickly.  "In 
the  Christian  religion  there  is  no  fraud  whatever." 

"Preachers  have  to  say  that,  of  course,"  sneered 
Weldman,  in  reply. 

"Every  intelligent  man  who  has  investigated  and 
tested  Christianity  says  so,  unless  his  life  is 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  311 

crooked,  in  which  case  a  test  of  Christianity  is  im- 
possible," said  the  minister  warmly. 

This  reference  to  a  "crooked  life"  touched  young 
Weldman,  for  his  character  was  openly  full  of 
serious  flaws. 

"The  practical  men  of  America  have  no  use  for 
churches  or  preachers,"  he  responded  in  an  insult-  - 
ing  manner. 

"What's  this  discussion  about?"  said  Judge  Gray- 
son  at  this  point,  turning  to  the  two  young  men. 

Allan  at  once  repeated  the  insulting  remark  of 
Weldman. 

"You  are  much  mistaken,  sir !"  replied  the  Judge 
severely,  addressing  himself  to  Weldman.  "I  want 
to  tell  you,  sir,  that  you  have  foully  slandered  the 
practical  men  of  America.  They  are  not  godless, 
as  you  say.  Andrew  Jackson,  our  great  President, 
was  one  of  the  practical  men  of  our  country.  He 
called  the  Bible  the  'Rock  on  which  the  Republic 
was  built.'  General  Grant  urged  the  people  of 
America  to  'cling  to  the  Bible.'  He  called  it  the 
'sheet  anchor  of  our  liberties.'  When  President 
McKinley  died  a  Christian  death,  saying,  'It  is 
God's  way,  not  ours.  His  will  be  done,'  he  showed 
all  the  world  his  faith  in  our  holy  religion. 

"The  leading  men  in  America  to-day,"  went  on 
the  Judge,  to  the  discomfited  Weldman,  "the  men 
who  are  our  real  patriots  and  who  are  opposing 
the  evils  which  blight  our  American  civilization, 
are  practically  all  Christian  men,  and  the  ministers 
<jf  the  Christian  Church  are  the  leaders  in  every- 
thing that  is  best  and  highest  in  our  American 
life. 


THE   VICTORY  OF 

"I  wish  that  you  could  hear  President  Roosevelt 
preach  some  time,"  the  Judge  concluded,  "or  that 
you  could  listen  to  William  Jennings  Bryan  speak 
on  the  subject  of  religion,  and  you  would  never 
again  slander  the  fair  name  of  Christian  America 
and  its  leading  men  by  calling  them  godless." 

Judge  Grayson  spoke  so  earnestly  and  with  such 
conviction  that  the  sneering  skeptic  was  silenced. 
After  that  rebuke  by  the  Judge,  Walker  Weldman 
treated  Allan  more  respectfully,  and  before  the 
voyage  was  over  the  minister  had  broken  down 
some  of  the  prejudice  with  which  Weldman  re- 
garded the  teachers  of  religion.  One  day  Allan 
related  to  him  the  tragic  story  of  Frederick  Mark- 
ley.  It  made  a  great  impression  on  Weldman,  and 
Allan  hoped  it  would  eventually  lead  to  a  change 
in  his  life  and  belief. 

When  the  liner  arrived  at  New  York,  Allan  bade 
Mabel  and  the  rest  of  the  party  good-bye,  as  he 
desired  to  make  a  visit  in  Boston  and  some  other 
Eastern  cities. 

He  called  on  his  old  professor,  Dr.  Augustus 
Beard,  and  found  rather  a  chilly  reception  awaiting 
him.  After  Allan  explained  to  the  professor  of 
theology  how  Wellington  Church  and  college  were 
flourishing  as  never  before,  the  old  professor 
thawed  out  a  little,  but  Allan  could  plainly  see 
that  Dr.  Beard  was  in  sympathy  with  the  ecclesias- 
tical "machine"  in  Iowa,  which  had  been  so  sadly 
disorganized  by  the  Wellington  minister's  aggres- 
sive Christianity.  From  Boston  Allan  went  to 
Washington,  D.  C,  and  spent  a  delightful  week 
in  the  Capitol  city. 


ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  313 

Through  his  friend,  Senator  Dolliver,  he  was 
admitted  to  an  interview  with  President  Roosevelt, 
and  he  had  a  delightful  chat  with  this  foremost 
American.  The  strenuous  President  showed  the 
deepest  interest  in  the  moral  and  religious  outlook 
in  the  Middle  West,  and  declared  that  a  spiritual 
awakening  was  the  most  vital  need  of  our  times. 

Climbing  to  the  top  of  the  dome  of  the  National 
Capitol  building,  Allan  surveyed  with  a  beating 
heart  the  beautiful  Capitol  city  of  America.  As  he 
gazed  upon  the  magnificent  public  buildings, 
Washington  Monument,  the  old  Lee  mansion  in 
the  distance,  the  wooded  parks  and  broad  boule- 
vardes  of  the  splendid  metropolis,  and  as  he  re- 
membered that  this  magnificent  city  was  the  offi- 
cial home  of  his  country,  his  heart  swelled  with 
patriotic  pride,  and  he  thanked  God  for  the  great 
Western  nation,  whose  flag  is  the  emblem  of  free- 
dom, righteousness  and  humanity. 

"Beautiful  land  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes!"  he  ex- 
claimed aloud. 

"Banner   of  Freedom ;  long  may  you  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the   home   of  the 
brave." 

After  a  few  more  weeks  of  rest,  spent  in  the 
Alleghany  Mountains,  Allan  Rutledge  turned  his 
face  once  more  toward  Iowa. 


*  CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  VICTORY,  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE. 

"Wellington!  Wellington!"  shouted  the  conduc- 
tor, as  the  fast  Chicago  Express  thundered  into 
that  Iowa  town,  bearing  the  returning  minister 
home  again. 

A  great  crowd  thronged  the  platform  of  the 
station. 

"There  he  is !"  cried  a  number  of  voices,  as 
Allan  Rutledge,  radiant  and  happy,  appeared  on 
the  platform  of  one  of  the  Pullman  palace  cars,  his 
suit  case  in  hand.  As  he  stepped  to  the  ground 
Deacon  Stanford  met  him. 

"Welcome  home,  Mr.  Rutledge!  You  look  like 
a  new  man  again." 

"And  I  feel  like  a  prince,"  replied  the  minister. 

"We  are  so  glad  to  see  you  back  with  us  again," 
said  his  many  friends,  greeting  him  with  a  hearty 
handshake. 

"This  is  home,"  said  Allan  to  Deacon  Stanford, 
when  they  drove  away  together.  "I  am  delighted 
to  be  back  among  my  own  people  in  Wellington." 

"As  far  as  I  can  see,"  replied  Deacon  Stanford, 
"there  is  only  one  thing  that  is  wrong,  and  that 
is  that  no  one  seems  to  be  'kicking.'  But  the  good 
Lord  has  given  you  the  complete  victory." 

314 


THE  VICTORY  OF  ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  315 

"He  surely  has,"  responded  Allan,  and  the  min- 
ister confided  in  the  deacon  his  victory  on  Innis- 
fallen  Island. 

"Glorious!  glorious!"  almost  shouted  Deacon 
Stanford.  "Mabel  Grayson  will  be  a  worthy  mis- 
tress of  the  splendid  house  we  are  building  for  you. 
You  ought  to  see  it.  It  will  be  one  of  the  finest 
residences  in  town.  Elddr  Markley  has  superin- 
tended most  of  the  work  himself,  and  he  says  that 
nothing  is  too  good.  It  will  be  a  house  fit  for  the 
ambassador  of  Christ  to  live  in." 

That  night  they  gave  Allan  a^  "welcome  home 
reception"  at  the  church.  While  he  was  away  the 
new  pipe-organ  had  been  installed,  and  a  gallery 
erected,  and  the  entire  church  overhauled. 

Allan  was  in  the  highest  spirits.  As  he  mingled 
with  the  people  he  was  delighted  to  greet  many  in 
whom  he  was  greatly  interested  and  whom  he. ob- 
served with  joy  remaining  steadfast  in  the  faith. 
Mr.  Steen  was  there  that  night,  contented  and 
happy.  His  little  daughter,  Marjorie,  had  a  part 
on  the  program,  singing  with  her  marvelous  voice 
the  appropriate  song,  "Home  Sweet  Home."  Mrs. 
Frisbie  was  there,  still  showing  visible  signs  on 
her  face  of  the  agony  of  her  soul  in  its  rebirth,  but 
gentle  and  cheerful.  The  men  from  the  factory, 
were  present,  now  proud  fellow-partners  in  the 
Wellington  Manufacturing  Company,  each  of  them 
with  the  air  of  a  prosperous  business  man. 

Elder  Markley  and  his  wife  were  present,  still 
sad  looking,  but  greeting  all  with  a  kindly  smile. 
Grace  Markley  had  a  little  talk  with  Allan  during 
the  evening,  and  he  confided  to  her  also  his  success 


316  THE   VICTORY  OF 

on  the  lovely  island  of  Innisfallen.  She  was  over- 
joyed, hardly  believing  it  possible,  and  warmly 
congratulated  the  minister.  Richard  Rutledge, 
Allan's  brother,  who  had  now  become  one  of  the 
leaders  among  the  college  boys,  was  there,  sur- 
rounded by  a  large  crowd  of  the  students.  They 
gave  their  college  yell  with  characteristic  vigor, 
and  the  roof  of  the  reception  parlor  rang  with  their 
"  'rah-'rah-'rahs." 

Altogether  the  reception  was  unanimous  and 
cordial  to  a  degree  that  surprised  even  Deacon 
Stanford.  Toward  the  close  of  the  evening  the 
deacon  stepped  forward  and  made  a  little  talk  to 
the  gathering,  presenting  Allan  with  a  handsome 
gold  watch  and  chain. 

"You  have  had  a  good  time  while  you  were  away 
from  us,"  said  the  genial  deacon,  "and  we  want 
you  to  have  a  'good  time'  from  now  on  in  Welling- 
ton," and  he  handed  the  watch  to  the  surprised 
minister.  In  his  response  Allan  Rutledge  spoke 
with  much  feeling  of  his  appreciation  of  the  beauti- 
ful gift. 

"I  will  always  carry  this  watch,"  he  said  earnest- 
ly. "It  will  ever  remind  me  of  your  loyalty  and 
love.  I  am  proud  to  be  the  minister  of  such  a 
congregation  as  the  Wellington  Church.  I  find 
that  our  work  here  is  creating  interest  in  all  parts 
of  the  country,  and  we  are  showing  discouraged 
ministers  and  churches  that  the  Gospel  of  Christ 
is  still  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation."  After 
Allan  sat  down,  Doctor  Shepherd,  the  new  presi- 
dent of  the  Wellington  College,  arose,  and  in  a  few 
well  chosen  words  he  pledged  the  cordial  support 


'ALLAN  RUTLEDGE  317 

of  that  institution  to  all  the  efforts  made  by  the 
Wellington  Church  to  extend  Christ's  kingdom  on 
earth. 

"Our  mission  is  great  and  glorious!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "Here  is  our  mission  and  here  is  the 
pledge  of  our  success,"  and  he  held  up  one  of  the 
souvenir  cards  which  had  been  given  to  all  who 
were  present.  On  these  cards  were  printed  a  pic- 
ture of  the  Wellington  Church,  and  underneath 
the  church  were  printed  these  words: 

"Our  Mission — The  Extension  of  Christ's  King- 
dom on  Earth;  Our  Pledge  of  Victory — The  Word 
of  God." 

The  reception  was  ended  by  singing  together  a 
verse  of  the  hymn,  "Like  a  Mighty  Army  Moves 
the  Church  of  God." 

Deacon  Stanford  and  Allan  walked  home  to- 
gether, as  was  their  custom.  "My  work  in  Wel- 
lington is  only  beginning,"  said  the  minister.  "All 
this  rough,  preparatory  work,  which  has  been  nec- 
essary, and  in  which  I  have  been  hitherto  engaged, 
was  like  the  work  of  the  pioneer  woodsman.  I 
have  been  simply  making  a  clearing  so  that  the 
real  work  of  the  church  could  begin.  We  have 
now,  for  the  first  time,  an  opportunity  to  go  for- 
ward, as  Christ's  followers,  and  take  this  entire 
community  for  God,  and  do  our  part  to  extend  his 
kingdom  in  the  world." 

As  soon  as  he  could  get  away  for  a  few  days, 
Alfan  hastened  to  Des  Moines.  He  was  welcomed 
to  Judge  Grayson's  home  by  Mabel  herself,  who 
opened  the  door  as  he  came  up  the  steps,  exclaim- 
ing: "Have  you  run  away  from  Wellington  again 


318  THE   VICTORY  OF 

so  soon?  You  are  not  looking  after  your  flock 
very  faithfully." 

"I  am  like  a  man  trying  to  serve  two  masters," 
replied  Allan  smilingly,  as  he  greeted  her  cordially, 
"but  I  hope  too  to  be  able  to  say,  'Now  rest,  my 
long  divided  heart.' " 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  parlor  Allan  told 
her  all  about  the  reception  at  Wellington  and 
showed  her  the  watch.  He  also  spoke  of  the  new 
residence  for  the  minister,  which  was  to  be  one  of 
the  finest  homes  in  Wellington. 

"I  am  sure  all  its  arrangements  will  please  you," 
he  said,  as  he  described  its  completeness. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Mabel  shyly,  "that  I  am 
hardly  worthy  to  be  a  minister's  wife." 

"You  are  worthy  to  be  the  wife  of  an  emperor," 
responded  Allan  enthusiastically;  "and  yet,"  he 
added  seriously,  "I  think  a  minister's  life  is  of  a 
higher  order  than  even  an  emperor's.  It's  because 
I  am  counted  worthy  to  be  an  ambassador  of 
Christ  that  I  have  dared  to  aspire  to  the  hand  of 
Judge  Grayson's  daughter." 

That  afternoon  they  visited  the  State  Capitol 
building,  which  crowns  a  gentle  eminence  over- 
looking the  Des  Moines  River.  As  they  climbed 
the  long  stairways  leading  to  the  top  of  the  dome, 
Allan  told  of  his  recent  experience  in  Washington, 
and  how  moved  he  was  at  the  sight  of  the  capitol 
city  of  his  country.  They  stood  together  on  the 
top  of  the  dome  of  the  Iowa  State  Capitol,  and  sur- 
veyed the  panorama  beneath.  The  growing  city 
of  Des  Moines  stretched  out  on  every  side.  The 
winding  river,  spanned  by  many  a  bridge,  flowed 


ALLAN  RUT  LEDGE  319 

majestically  through  the  city,  and  out  across  the 
fertile  plains.  Away  in  the  distance  they  could 
see  the  broad  acres  of  rich  soil  that  make  Iowa 
the  finest  agricultural  State  in  the  Union. 

They  gazed  awhile  in  silence,  and  then  Allan 
spoke.  "What  a  grand  picture  of  possibilities  that 
is !  Here  in  this  prosperous  land  God  is  about  to 
rear  the  noblest  society  this  earth  has  even  seen. 
I  am  proud  of  Iowa.  I  am  proud  of  the  Middle 
West." 

And  Mabel  Grayson  answered,  "All  that  is  need- 
ed to  make  your  dream  for  this  land  come  true  is 
the  Americanization  and  Christianization  of  its 
people." 

"With  you  by  my  side,"  responded  Allan,  "I 
dedicate  my  life  to  the  building  up  of  God's  king- 
dom in  this  glorious  Middle  West."  And  they  went 
down  from  the  dome  together,  happy  in  their 
mutual  love,  both  of  them  thrilled  with  the  same 
grand  ambition.  The  victory  of  Allan  Rutledge 
was  complete! 

(The  End.) 


A     000037155     9 


